#i know i'm a day late but life is just weird these days

[iamquiantrelle]

GOLDEN BOY (chapter 5) ────── iamquaintrelle

⌗ pairing : trent alexander arnold x black oc

⌗ summary : trent is having a quarter life crisis but will a smart-mouthed girl whip him into shape?

⌗ warnings : 18+ only!! (☁️☔️💕)

⌗taglist: @trentswrld, @trentpov @judesvirtual @sailurmewn @football-and-fanfics @eriks-girl @preetykookie @4ngryssgf @endlessmuse @noturbabe22, @sucredreamer@bbgkoo @hollablkgrl @notzara @chrisoppar @letmeapologise @amrx1

The photoshoot had blown up. Tyler kept sending him screenshots of brand offers - Alexander Wang wanting him for their new campaign, Versace sliding into his DMs. Mental how a few artistic shots could change everything.

"Your socials are going crazy," Tyler had said during their morning call. "This is exactly what we needed - showing a different side of you. Even GQ's interested now."

If only he knew just how different Trent had become lately.

Training for PSV was intense, made more challenging by April's "homework" and his solution to it. The cock ring he'd ordered after some very awkward late-night Googling was helping with the edging practice, but fuck did it hurt. Never thought he'd be sitting there comparing silicon versus metal on some dodgy website at three in the morning, but here he was. The things arrived in discrete packaging at least - last thing he needed was some delivery driver recognizing him while handing over sex toys.

The research had been embarrassing too. His browser history looked like some kind of sexual education course now - "how to edge properly," "beginner's guide to submission," "cock ring safety tips." Christ.

Now he was sprawled on his sofa, trying to focus on FIFA while Marcel absolutely rinsed him 4-0. His brother had that look that meant questions were coming - the same one he'd had when Trent started dating Sophie.

"So," Marcel started, not taking his eyes off the screen as he scored a fifth goal, "there's these pictures going round Twitter..."

"What pictures?"

"You and some girl outside Anfield. Looking proper cozy."

Trent's thumb slipped on the controller, letting Marcel through on goal again. Course someone had snapped photos of him and April that day with the Ferrari.

"Just work stuff," he said, remembering the contract's media clause. Even if he could tell family, he wasn't ready for all that yet. Especially not after what happened with Sophie and all those pap shots.

"Work stuff that leaves hickeys?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying–"

The doorbell interrupted whatever Marcel was about to say. Thank fuck.

Tyler and Liv were at the door, little Aura half-asleep in her car seat. She looked angelic when she wasn't screaming the house down.

"She's just had her bottle," Liv said, handing over Aura's bag stuffed with enough supplies for a week, not just one night. "Should sleep through, but you know where we are if–"

"I've got her," Trent assured them. "Go enjoy your date."

Once they'd left, Marcel was right back at it like a dog with a bone. "So this mystery woman..."

"Leave it."

"The blogs are saying–"

"The blogs chat shit and you know it."

His phone buzzed.

April: How's the homework going?

April: That ring helping?

April: Remember - ten minutes minimum.

April: Don't think I won't know if you cheat.

His face must've given something away because Marcel was properly staring now, game forgotten.

"That her?"

"None of your business."

"It is! The team's group chat's going mental about more marks–"

"I will actually kill Ibou."

"So there are more marks!"

Little Aura chose that moment to wake up grumpy, saving Trent from more interrogation. As he picked her up, bouncing her gently the way Liv had shown him, his phone lit up again.

April: Missing those sounds you made the other night...

April: Maybe if you're good with your homework...

April: We can make them again soon.

April: But only if you prove you can control yourself.

Christ. Even her texts had him twisted up.

"Your face has gone all weird," Marcel observed, pausing the game. "You actually like this one, don't you?"

More than liked her. But that wasn't something he could explain - not the contract, not the commands, definitely not the cock ring currently making playing FIFA extremely uncomfortable. How do you tell your little brother that some photographer has you wrapped around her finger, literally and figuratively?

"Just... leave it yeah?" He adjusted Aura on his hip as she started fussing. "Some things are better kept private."

"Since when do you keep anything private?"

Since a photographer with a devil's smile had him signing contracts and buying sex toys off the internet. Since he'd discovered that giving up control felt better than having it. Since marks and commands and praise had become more addictive than scoring goals.

"People change."

Marcel snorted. "Yeah but you've gone proper soft mate. All these secret smiles at your phone, covering up marks–"

"You want to play or not?"

But his brother had that look again - the same one he'd had when Sophie started showing up in the tabloids. "Just... be careful yeah? These industry birds–"

"She's different." The words came out sharper than intended, making Aura jump slightly.

"That's what you said about Sophie."

"This isn't like that."

No, this was something else entirely. Something that made him feel more himself than he had in years.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Time yourself tonight.

April: Want a full report tomorrow.

April: Don't disappoint me.

April: Good boys get rewarded.

April: Bad boys get punished.

Yeah, definitely not like Sophie at all.

The cock ring was already a problem, and April’s texts weren’t helping. Trent could feel Marcel’s eyes burning into him as he set Aura down in her little travel cot, her fussing turning into soft coos.

"You’re proper twitchy," Marcel said, leaning back into the sofa like he had all the time in the world. "Is she high-maintenance or what?"

Trent ignored him, grabbing Aura’s blanket and tucking it around her. She grabbed his finger in her tiny hand, and for a moment, he let himself focus on her instead of the chaos in his head.

"She’s not high-maintenance," he muttered eventually, not looking at his brother. "She’s just… different."

Marcel snorted. "Different how? She got you on a leash or something?"

The irony nearly made him choke. "Shut up, man."

"Come on, spill! Is she like, boujee influencer vibes? Or is it one of those boss-lady types?"

Trent turned to glare at him. "You done?"

Marcel grinned. "Not even close. But seriously, I’m curious. What kind of girl has you all… like this?"

Before Trent could reply, his phone buzzed again. Marcel lunged for it, but Trent was faster, snatching it off the table and holding it out of reach.

"Oh, this is rich," Marcel laughed, pointing at him. "You’re hiding her! That’s how I know it’s serious."

"Just play FIFA," Trent said, dropping back onto the sofa and pretending to focus on the screen. His phone buzzed once more, and he cursed himself for forgetting to turn off notifications.

April: Got a new idea for us.

April: Think you can handle being tied up?

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching on the controller. Marcel side-eyed him, clearly picking up on his mood.

"Mate, you’re terrible at hiding shit. You might as well just tell me."

"Nope."

"Is she fit, though?"

Trent shot him a warning look. "Drop it."

"Alright, alright," Marcel said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. But he wasn’t done. "So, is she coming to the next family thing, or you keeping her secret forever?"

Trent tensed, the idea of April meeting his family sending a jolt through him. She wasn’t exactly the bring-home-to-mum type — not because she wasn’t amazing, but because explaining everything was impossible. He could already picture his mum’s face if she found out about the contract, the "homework," the whole bloody situation.

"She’s not meeting anyone," Trent said firmly.

Marcel frowned. "Why not?"

"Because… it’s complicated."

His brother narrowed his eyes, like he was piecing together a puzzle. "Complicated how? Is she married or something?"

"No!"

"Then what?"

Trent opened his mouth, then shut it again. He wasn’t about to admit that April was the one with the leash — metaphorically, at least — and that he was loving every second of it. He wasn’t going to explain how she made him feel more alive, more challenged, more seen than anyone ever had. And he definitely wasn’t going to mention the cock ring.

"She’s just… not ready for all that," he said instead, knowing it was only half true. "And neither am I." Not yet at least.

Marcel shrugged, turning his attention back to the game. "Fair enough. But you better figure it out soon, yeah? People are gonna start asking questions."

Trent didn’t reply.

He clenched his jaw, heat crawling up his neck as Marcel scored another goal. "6-0," Marcel said, smirking. "You’re off your game, mate."

"You’ve no idea," Trent muttered under his breath, already dreading the long night ahead.

********************************************

The rest of the evening was surprisingly peaceful. Marcel managed to rein in his questions, focusing instead on keeping Aura entertained while Trent reheated the leftovers Liv had packed for them. The little one was an angel tonight, giggling at everything Marcel did, whether it was pulling faces or mimicking silly voices.

"Don’t get too attached," Trent joked, leaning against the counter as he watched Marcel balance Aura on his knee like she was riding a horse. "Might have to start calling you Uncle Nanny."

Marcel smirked. "At least I’m good at it. You, though? Changing nappies and sleepless nights? Couldn’t see you handling it."

"I’ve managed fine before, haven’t I?"

"Yeah, ‘cause you only get her for one night. Do this every day and we’ll see how cocky you are."

Aura clapped her hands, oblivious to the banter flying over her head. Her laugh was loud and full of joy, and it was impossible not to smile at the sound. For all the chaos in his life lately, moments like this grounded him.

They ate dinner together at the dining table, taking turns keeping Aura occupied while scarfing down lasagna and garlic bread. She babbled happily in her high chair, tiny fists banging the tray like she had something important to say. When Trent handed her a piece of soft bread, she examined it carefully before shoving it in her mouth with both hands.

"She’s better company than you," Marcel said, watching her with a grin.

"Yeah, she doesn’t talk as much," Trent shot back, earning a laugh.

By the time Aura started rubbing her eyes, her little face sleepy and content, Marcel offered to take her to his room. "I’ll keep an eye on her," he said, gathering up her blanket and bottle. "You can have some peace and quiet."

Trent didn’t argue. "Appreciate it."

Once they were gone, the house felt unnaturally quiet. He cleaned up the dishes, wiped down the counters, and wandered around aimlessly for a bit, trying to shake the restlessness creeping in. His phone sat on the coffee table, and he resisted the urge to check it again. He already knew what April’s texts would say: reminders, commands, a challenge wrapped in that teasing tone of hers that drove him mad.

Eventually, he gave in and went to his room, locking the door behind him. The cock ring, snug and unrelenting, had been on him since morning — a challenge April had casually suggested, as if wearing it all day wouldn’t drive him mad.

"Ten minutes minimum," he muttered, recalling her words. Christ.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the cool air of the room brushing against his skin as he pulled off his clothes and settled against the pillows. His fingers hovered over his phone, hesitating before he set a timer. Ten minutes felt like an eternity when she wasn’t there to guide him, her voice in his ear, her hands on him, pushing him to the edge but never letting him fall.

His breathing slowed as he got started, wrapping a hand around his dick, his body reacting instantly to the sensation. He focused on the timer, his fingers gripping his length tightly as he continued to stroke himself, the seconds ticking by. It was harder than he thought it’d be — staying in control, holding back, fighting the urge to let go too soon.

April’s texts replayed in his head, her voice a phantom in the room. Good boys get rewarded. Bad boys get punished. He wanted the reward, craved it, but the thought of disappointing her was unbearable.

By the time the timer buzzed, his body was trembling, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he exhaled a shaky breath. He grabbed his phone, typing out a quick message:

Trent: Ten minutes. Nearly killed me.

Trent: You happy now?

April: Always.

April: But don’t think you’re done yet.

April: Double it next time.

Double it? Was she trying to kill him?

He groaned, letting the phone drop onto the bed beside him. She was relentless, and he hated how much he loved it. As he lay there, his heart still pounding, the thought of another day like this made him want to cry, but Trent couldn’t help the way his body responded to her praise. He’d do it again — hell, he’d do anything if it meant hearing her call him that again.

The PSV match was all anyone at Liverpool was talking about as the team stepped off the bus in Eindhoven. Trent adjusted the strap of his bag over his shoulder, glancing around the grounds as staff ushered them toward the locker rooms. The air was crisp, and the Dutch crowd was already buzzing outside, chanting in bursts that carried faintly through the concrete tunnels.

He was supposed to be focused — mentally locked in for a crucial away game in the Champion’s League — but his head was a mess. The last two days had been intense, and not just because of the extra drills the gaffer had thrown in during practice. Between training sessions, recovery, and keeping up with April’s homework, his body was on edge in every possible way.

Twenty-five minutes. That’s where he was now.

The first time he hit ten minutes, it felt like climbing Everest. Fifteen had been worse. But twenty-five minutes of sustained edging? That had him feeling like he’d unlocked some new level of torture. He’d barely gotten through it without cramping up, his body desperate for relief. And her texts? They weren’t helping.

April: Twenty-five minutes? Impressive. I’m proud of you.

April: But let’s not get too comfortable — aim for thirty next time.

April: Just imagine what you’ll earn if you keep this up.

The way her praise made his chest tighten was infuriating. She knew exactly how to twist him up with a few carefully chosen words, and she didn’t hold back.

By the time he’d packed his bag for Eindhoven, he couldn’t take it anymore. They’d been apart for too long, and waiting until he got back to Liverpool felt impossible.

He’d messaged her while they were on the plane, testing the waters.

Trent: Come to the match? I’ll sort everything. Flights, hotel, all of it.

Her reply came fast, sharp, and, of course, wrapped in her usual teasing.

April: Are you sure you want to waste one of your 10 match privileges?

That had stopped him in his tracks. She was right; their agreement allowed him only ten match appearances as part of the "girlfriend experience." He hated how much that phrase made his stomach flip. And wasting one on a group-stage game when they weren’t even guaranteed to win? She knew how to make him question himself.

He’d tried a different angle.

Trent: Fair enough. What about a weekend in Eindhoven then? Just us.

Trent: I’ll pay for your hotel. Doesn’t have to be fancy.

Her response took longer this time, but when it came, it was classic April.

April: I’ll get back to you on that.

The uncertainty left him restless. Even as he warmed up on the pristine PSV pitch, his head wasn’t entirely in the game. Every now and then, he’d glance at the stands, wondering what it would be like to see her sitting there, watching him like he mattered to her beyond their arrangement.

It was wild how much space she’d taken up in his brain lately. A month ago, he’d have laughed at the thought of anyone having this kind of hold on him. Now? Every pass, every sprint, every tackle felt like he was chasing her approval more than the win.

"You good?" Virgil asked, clapping him on the shoulder as they lined up for drills.

"Yeah," Trent muttered, shaking his head like he could clear her out of it. "Just ready to get this done."

Virgil gave him a knowing look but didn’t press.

As the rest of the squad settled into their routine, Trent’s phone vibrated on the bench where he’d stashed his bag. His heart leapt, and he ignored the impulse to check it right away. He forced himself through another round of sprints, telling himself it was probably just Tyler sending updates on the socials.

When he finally grabbed his phone during a water break, her name on the screen had him swallowing hard.

April: Eindhoven, huh? I could be convinced.

April: But if I come, you better make it worth my while.

He exhaled a laugh, biting down on his lip to hide the grin spreading across his face. Of course she’d make it sound like a challenge. And, of course, it was one he’d rise to.

Trent: I’ll handle everything. Just tell me when you’re landing.

April: You’re confident.

Trent: I have to be. You don’t make it easy.

April: Good. I like you better this way.

The whistle blew, signaling the start of tactical drills, and he pocketed his phone, heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with football. If she really came to Eindhoven, the weekend would be… different. Distracting. Dangerous, even.

But he couldn’t wait.

*********************************************

The lobby of the hotel was quiet, save for the hum of soft jazz playing through hidden speakers and the occasional murmur of voices from other guests. Trent adjusted the strap of his duffle bag, keeping his hood low as he approached the front desk. His heart was racing — not from nerves, but from the anticipation that had been building since the final whistle blew at the PSV match.

April had been relentless since the game ended.

The first text had come as he was stepping off the pitch, a simple "Congrats, T 🖤" that had his chest swelling with pride. Then the photos started.

The first was tame — her reflection in a mirror, wearing a skintight leather skirt and a cropped top that showed off her toned stomach. His throat went dry just looking at it.

The next one? Not tame at all.

April had sent a shot of herself in a leather harness, her lips parted slightly around a ball gag. The caption read, Missing your sounds, but may have to try this tonight.

He’d nearly dropped his phone when he saw it. She was trying to kill him, plain and simple.

Now, standing at the front desk, he cleared his throat and whispered his name to the concierge, his voice low enough to keep from drawing any attention. The man behind the counter, professional and unfazed, simply nodded and tapped away at his computer.

"Your passport, please," the concierge said.

Trent slid it across the counter, followed by his credit card. He kept his head down, glancing around to make sure no one recognized him. It was one thing for the concierge to know who he was, but the last thing he needed was someone snapping a photo and posting it online.

"Here you are, Mr. Alexander-Arnold," the concierge said, sliding a keycard across the counter with a polite smile. "Enjoy your stay."

"Thanks, mate," Trent mumbled, grabbing the card and his documents before heading toward the lift.

As he stepped inside and hit the button for their floor, he couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing. The adrenaline from the game, the rush of victory, and the simmering anticipation of what was waiting for him upstairs were all hitting him at once. He let out a slow breath, trying to center himself.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out, walking quickly down the carpeted hallway. The door to their room was at the end, and he could already feel his pulse quickening.

Keycard in hand, he slid it into the reader, the light turning green with a soft beep. He pushed the door open, stepping inside.

The room was dimly lit, a few candles scattered around the space casting a warm glow. The smell of vanilla hung in the air, and the sound of soft music played from a speaker in the corner.

And there she was.

April was lounging on the bed, propped up on one elbow with her legs crossed casually. She wasn’t in the leather harness from her earlier photos, but her outfit was no less deadly. A black satin robe hung loosely off her shoulders, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of the lace bodysuit underneath.

"You took your time," she teased, her voice smooth as silk.

"Traffic," Trent replied, setting his bag down by the door and shrugging off his jacket.

"Liar," she said, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "I was watching the match. You came straight here."

He couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Can you blame me?"

April stood, the robe slipping off her shoulders completely now. She crossed the room slowly, her heels clicking against the wooden floor.

"Not at all," she said, stopping in front of him. She reached out, tugging gently on the drawstring of his hoodie. "You’ve been a good boy these past few days."

Trent swallowed hard, her proximity and the way her eyes raked over him making his head spin. "Tried my best," he murmured.

Her lips curved into a sly smile. "Let’s see if it paid off."

And just like that, any thought of the match, the team, or anything outside of this room faded away. He was hers for the next two days, and he had no intention of holding anything back.

His heartbeat raced as her sharp eyes swept over him, her lips curving into a knowing smile.

"Take off your clothes," she said, her voice low but firm.

He nodded, hands moving to tug off his hoodie first, followed by his T-shirt, leaving his chest bare. He hesitated briefly before unbuttoning his track pants and letting them fall, kicking them aside. Now standing in just his briefs, he paused, his hands twitching at his sides as he awaited further instruction.

"And kneel," she added, tilting her head as she stepped back slightly, giving him room.

Trent sank to his knees, keeping his head bowed, a surge of anticipation coursing through him. He heard the soft rustle of fabric as she moved across the room, the distinct sound of a zipper, and when she returned, his gaze darted up briefly before lowering again. She was holding a small leather crop, tapping it lightly against her palm as she regarded him.

"I’ll start off easy," she said, her tone almost playful as she toyed with the handle.

"No easy," Trent murmured, his voice strained but steady.

Her brow arched, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Oh? Wild boy, huh?"

"Yes, ma’am."

The words came out with a level of reverence that sent a thrill through her. She leaned forward, her eyes boring into his as she asked, "Safe word?"

"Anfield," he answered without hesitation.

"Good." She straightened, tapping the crop against her palm one last time before walking around him. "Let’s see just how wild you are."

The first strike was light, barely more than a whisper against the skin of his back. Trent let out a slow exhale, adjusting his posture to brace for more. She landed another, harder this time, and then again, alternating between his back and buttocks. Each strike sent a mix of sting and heat rippling through him, the sensation sharp but not unbearable.

"You like that, don’t you?" she teased, her voice cutting through the air.

"Yes, ma’am," he breathed, his muscles flexing beneath each stroke.

"Such a good boy," she purred, the crop trailing along his spine now, a featherlight touch that made him shiver. Then came another sharp crack against his skin, pulling a groan from his throat.

April’s hand suddenly moved to his neck, her fingers wrapping around it as she bent him forward just a bit more. Her grip was firm but not overwhelming, her thumb pressing lightly against his pulse. "Stay like this," she commanded, her voice close to his ear now.

"Yes, ma’am," he managed, his voice slightly strained but steady.

She struck again with the crop, her movements calculated, each one delivering a measured jolt of pain and pleasure. When she tightened her grip on his neck briefly, cutting off just a bit of his airway, Trent let out a low, guttural sound.

"Fuck, you like this a lot, don’t you?" she murmured, her tone a mix of mockery and approval.

"Yes," he rasped, his eyes shut tight as he surrendered completely to her control.

"Speak properly," she demanded, loosening her grip enough for him to answer.

"Yes, ma’am," he corrected quickly, his voice trembling.

"That’s better." Her grip on his neck shifted, and she used it to guide him into an even more submissive posture, his shoulders dipping as he knelt there.

She delivered a few more strikes with the crop, alternating the intensity, each one punctuated by filthy, teasing remarks. "Look at you," she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "So eager, so desperate to please. Tell me how much you want this."

"So much, ma’am," he groaned, his voice raw.

Her hand tightened on his neck again briefly, enough to send his head spinning in the best way. The loss of air was fleeting, just long enough to make him dizzy, and when she released him, he gasped, the rush of oxygen making every nerve in his body feel alive.

"Good boy," she whispered, leaning in to kiss the shell of his ear before stepping back, placing the crop on the bedside table. "We’re just getting started."

April ran her fingers over the freshly made marks on Trent’s back, her touch light yet deliberate, tracing the faint welts with pride. Each one stood out against his caramel skin, evidence to the way he submitted to her so willingly.

"How does it look, ma’am?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with both curiosity and reverence.

"Beautiful," she said, her tone full of satisfaction. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the space between his shoulder and neck, her lips lingering for a moment.

Then she pulled back and straightened. "Get on the bed," she commanded.

He hesitated briefly, his body still humming from her earlier ministrations, but she arched a brow and added, "You can walk."

That was all he needed. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, wincing slightly as the ache from the crop made itself known with each movement. He made his way to the bed, his head still bowed slightly as he climbed onto it.

"Lay down on your back, but take off your boxers first," she instructed.

Trent obeyed, hooking his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and carefully sliding them down, mindful of the sensitivity in certain areas. Once they were off, he lay back on the bed, his hands at his sides as he waited for her next move.

April approached him, his eyes locked onto her as she untied the sash of her robe and let it fall to the floor. Beneath, she wore a lace bodysuit that hugged every curve of her body, the intricate design accentuating her figure. She reached behind her and unclasped it, letting it slip off her shoulders and down her body until she was completely bare before him.

His breath hitched as she climbed onto the bed next to him. Without a word, she bent over and took his dick into her mouth, her lips enveloping him in a way that sent a jolt of pleasure shooting through him.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily as the wet heat of her mouth consumed him.

April worked with precision, her tongue swirling around his tip, her lips creating just the right amount of pressure. One of her hands moved to his testicles, squeezing gently at first before applying more pressure, the sensation making his toes curl.

Just as he thought he was going to lose himself entirely, she pulled back and a string of saliva stretched all the way down the her nipples. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb before meeting his gaze, her expression filled with both mischief and authority.

"I’m going to fuck you nice and hard, Trent," she said, her voice dripping with promise. "How does that sound?"

"Good, ma’am," he replied, his voice shaky but eager.

"Good," she said, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "But first, we need to do a little something."

She slid off the bed and walked over to her bag, retrieving a set of silk ties and a ball gag. Trent’s pulse quickened as he watched her, his anticipation growing with every step she took.

Returning to the bed, she slipped off her heels and climbed back up, her knees pressing into the mattress as she loomed over him. "Arms over your head," she instructed.

He complied immediately, raising his arms above him. She secured each wrist to the headboard with the silk ties, ensuring they were snug but not cutting off circulation. Once satisfied, she picked up the ball gag and held it in front of his lips.

"Open," she said simply.

Trent obeyed, opening his mouth wide enough for her to slip the ball into place. She fastened the strap behind his head, her fingers brushing the back of his neck as she did so.

"There," she said, sitting back on her heels to admire her work. Her gaze swept over him — his bound wrists, the gag in his mouth, and his body stretched out and waiting for her. "Now you’re ready for me."

April positioned herself over Trent, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his hips as she guided him into her. His body tensed beneath her, and she watched his reaction closely, the gag muffling his guttural groan as her warmth surrounded him. She didn’t ease into it. No, that wasn’t her style. Once he was fully inside, she began moving with purpose, setting a relentless pace that had his head falling back against the pillows.

She rode him like her life depended on it, each bounce of her hips sending waves of pleasure through his body. His dick throbbed inside her, and he was infinitely grateful he’d practiced with the cock ring. If he hadn’t, he would’ve lost control far too soon.

Her breasts moved with every motion, catching his gaze and holding it captive. He groaned at the sight, the sound muffled but still desperate, his hooded eyes locking on her with adoration and lust. She looked… happy. Or at least, as happy as a dominatrix could look. Her lips curled into a smug, knowing smile as she maintained her pace, clearly enjoying how much he was losing himself beneath her.

"You like that, don’t you?" she teased, her voice laced with the filthiest kind of sweetness.

Trent nodded fervently, unable to form words. Every nerve ending in his body was alive, focused on the perfect way she felt around him, how her movements seemed designed to drive him to the brink.

"Such a good boy," she purred, reaching behind herself.

He gasped, his body jolting as her hand found his testicles. She squeezed and twisted them, the mix of pleasure and pain making his eyes roll back in his head. He was overwhelmed, completely and utterly at her mercy, and he loved every second of it.

"Don’t cum yet," she warned, her tone sharp but teasing.

Trent exhaled sharply through his nose, nodding as he tried to focus on anything but the coiling tension building in his core. He clenched his fists against the silk ties, his muscles flexing as he tried to hold back.

April leaned forward slightly, her pace never faltering as her filthy words poured out. "You’re so fucking perfect like this, all mine, stretched out and taking whatever I give you."

He whimpered beneath her, his body trembling as she twisted his scrotum again, her forefinger caressing the sensitive part of skin, mere centimeters away from his anus. She was unrelenting, riding him with the determination of someone on a bull machine at a Hen Do, and all he could do was watch her in awe.

How was this his life? How did he end up here, with her — this beautiful, commanding woman who seemed to know exactly how to ruin him in the best way?

Her dirty talk became filthier, the words cascading over him as her hand continued its relentless assault. Trent squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on anything else — his breathing, the way the bed creaked, the cool air against his heated skin — anything to keep from succumbing.

Then she said it. The one word that shattered his resolve.

"Cum."

A guttural growl erupted from his chest as his body finally gave in, the release overwhelming him. His hips jerked beneath her as he spilled into her, the sheer intensity of it leaving him breathless and trembling.

April moaned softly at the sensation, and that sound— God, that sound — made his heart race even more. It was one of satisfaction, of contentment, and he realized he loved hearing it.

"Trent, you feel so good cumming inside me," she said, her voice dripping with praise.

His already hazy mind spun. Holy fuck, did she really have to say shit like that?

Before he could even process her words, he felt her inner muscles contract around him, like she was trying to hold his essence deep inside her. He gasped, his body tingling as the feeling overwhelmed him.

He never knew a woman could do that, but now that he did… he was ruined for anyone else.

Two days in Eindhoven had wrecked him, but in the best way possible. Trent's body felt like he'd played three matches back to back, muscles aching in places he didn't even know could ache. The amount of times April had made him cum should've been physically impossible - like some kind of scientific study waiting to happen.

His reflection in the car mirror showed fresh marks peeking above his collar. April had been... thorough about marking her territory this time. "So you don't forget who you belong to," she'd said, adding another bite to his collection.

The drive to training was a blur of memories - April's commands, her praise when he followed them perfectly, the way she'd push him just far enough before pulling back. Never thought he'd be into all that, but here he was, proper addicted to it.

The lads would give him shit again when they saw the new marks. Let them think he was some legendary lover, giving as good as he got. Truth was, he was just April's willing toy – and fuck him if that didn't get him going more than anything.

Actually made sense when he thought about it. He'd always been a people pleaser, hadn't he? Always trying to be what everyone needed – perfect footballer, local lad made good, but with April... it was different. She wanted him to please her, yeah, but she also built him up with it. Every "good boy" felt like winning a trophy, every command followed perfectly earned him praise that made his chest tight.

"Look who finally made it!" Robbo's voice carried across the parking lot. "Thought you might've got lost in Eindhoven!"

"Nah mate," Trent grinned, grabbing his bag. "Just had better things to do."

"We can see that!" Joe called out, pointing at Trent's neck. "She trying to write her name or something?"

The changing room was chaos as usual, everyone proper taking the piss. But Trent didn't mind - let them joke. They had no idea how good it felt being April's toy, her good boy, her willing servant.

His phone buzzed as he was changing.

April: Miss me yet?

His face must've done something because suddenly Virgil was looking at him with that knowing smile.

"She's good for you," his captain said quietly. "Never seen you this... settled."

Settled. Yeah, that was it. For the first time in his life, Trent knew exactly what he was meant to be.

Even if that meant being on his knees for a photographer who'd proper rewired his brain.

Another buzz.

April: Don't forget - edging practice tonight.

April: Thirty minutes this time.

April: Show me how good you can be for me.

Fucking hell.

But his "Yes ma'am" was typed and sent before he could even think about it.

Training was flowing smooth - every pass finding its target, every cross curling just right. When Slot called for lunch, the lads practically sprinted for their phones like teenagers, but Trent took his time. Saturday's match against Bournemouth was looking promising, and he was feeling dead confident about it.

But the weird looks on everyone's faces when he reached them had his stomach dropping.

"What?"

Danns wordlessly held out his phone. The Daily Mail. Brilliant.

There they were in Eindhoven - him bending down to April's height, grinning like some lovesick puppy. Then another shot of them kissing, a kiss he'd proper begged for because she'd had him so wound up for affection. His hood was up but anyone with eyes could tell it was him.

The article connected all the dots - identifying April as the photographer behind his recent shoot, the mystery woman in the Ferrari, even digging up that she was some decorated army officer's daughter from Liverpool. The comments were surprisingly positive:

"He's got his swagger back!"

"Local girl, army family, proper match"

"Old Trent's finally back"

"Shit," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. It was bound to happen eventually, but still.

"You good?" Virgil asked quietly.

"Need to check on April..."

"Lads," Virgil called out, captain voice in full effect. "Give him space yeah? See you in the canteen."

Back at his bag, Trent's hands were shaking slightly as he checked his phone. But April's texts weren't about the article at all.

Instead, there was a screenshot of DMs with a simple message: "Get your bitches in line or I'll do it for you."

The DMs were from Sophie - old photos of her and Trent together, proper intimate ones from their relationship. Like some sad attempt at threatening April.

"Fuck," he whispered, but something hot curled in his stomach at April's possessiveness. Sophie had no idea who she was messing with.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Waiting for your response.

April: Tell me how you’re gonna handle this.

April: Or I will.

Christ. Why was her being all territorial turning him on so much?

Trent stared at his phone, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. What do you even say when your blocked ex is trying to start beef with your... whatever April was?

Trent: She must've made a lurk account

Trent: I'll sort it

April: No need.

April: Already handled it.

April: Sent those photos to my lawyer.

April: She won't try that again.

His stomach flipped. Course April would handle it like a proper boss.

April: Though we still need to discuss punishment.

April: For not telling me about her tendency to... reappear.

Even when she was proper mad, she still had him wanting to please her.

April: The Mail article though...

April: You looked proper needy in those photos.

Trent: Was needy for you wasn't I?

April: Bold of you to flirt when you're in trouble.

April: See me after your match Saturday.

April: Bring overnight gear.

April: And that ring I bought you.

His whole body went hot. The new ring she'd gifted him in Eindhoven was intense - designed specifically for "training" she'd said.

"T!" Darwin's voice made him jump. "You coming to eat or what?"

"Yeah, give me a minute."

Trent: Yes ma'am.

Trent: About the article though... you okay?

April: Worried about me? Sweet. But I can handle some pap shots.

April: And clearly I need to remind you who you belong to now.

April: Since your past keeps trying to creep in.

But before he could respond, she sent one more message:

April: Now go eat. Need you strong for Saturday. And what comes after 😈

Fucking hell.

******************************************

The restaurant was buzzing, one of those nice-but-not-too-nice spots in Liverpool where everyone knew everyone. Trent tugged at his turtleneck - bit warm for it really, but better than explaining to his mum why he looked like he'd been mauled by a tiger.

"You're fidgeting," Dianne noted, bouncing Aura on her knee. "Everything alright love?"

"Just match nerves," he lied. Actually it was the marks from last weekend's "session" with April making his collar itch, but his mum didn't need to know that.

"Michael!" Some old fella from down their street appeared at their table. "Good to see the family together. And Trent lad - you're looking proper back to yourself these days."

"Thanks Mr. Thompson."

"Heard your new girl's from round here? Army family yeah?"

Word traveled fast in Liverpool. Before Trent could answer, another regular - Mrs. Kelly from the corner shop - stopped by.

"My Denise went to school with a Goodplenty girl," she said, like they'd asked. "Her dad was proper decorated, served in the Middle East and that. Good Toxteth family before they moved."

His dad perked up at that. "Toxteth? Must know some of the same people then."

"Dad…" Trent warned, but it was too late.

"What? Just saying it's nice you're seeing someone local. Someone who gets it."

Gets what, Trent wanted to ask. The marks? The commands? The way she had him properly wrapped around her finger?

"She coming to any matches?" his sister-in-law asked, rescuing him from that train of thought.

"Maybe." If he earned it. April had been clear about that - match attendance was a reward, not a given.

Another neighbor stopped by, then someone's cousin, then a lad he vaguely remembered from school. Everyone had something to say about April's dad - where he'd served, what medals he had, how proud Toxteth was of him.

His phone buzzed under the table. April finally replying to the selfie he sent before coming to dinner.

April: That turtleneck looks suspicious. April: But I like knowing what's underneath. April: My marks. My boy.

Christ. Even from wherever she was, she had him squirming.

"Who's that got you smiling?" his mum asked.

"No one," he said quickly, but his face must've given him away because Liv started laughing.

"Look at him blushing! Dead obvious mate."

"Leave him alone," Michael chuckled. "Boy's allowed his privacy."

Privacy. Right. Like that existed in Liverpool when you were TAA and dating a local girl whose dad was apparently some sort of legend.

His phone buzzed again.

April: Bet you're thinking about Eindhoven. April: How prettily you begged. April: How good you were for me.

He shifted in his seat, turtleneck suddenly feeling way too tight.

"You sure you're alright love?" His mum was giving him that look. "You've gone all red."

"Fine mum. Just warm in here."

Another buzz.

April: Taking those marks to dinner with your family… April: Such a naughty boy. April: We'll have to discuss that tomorrow.

This was going to be a long dinner.

Marcel kept shooting him these proper smug looks across the table, especially when Trent had to adjust his collar for the hundredth time.

"Bit warm for a turtleneck innit?" his younger brother said innocently. "Unless…"

Tyler kicked him under the table while Trent shot him a death glare.

Aura started fussing in Dianne's arms, making grabby hands at Trent. "Un-ca! Un-ca!"

"Come here then," he said, grateful for the distraction as he scooped her up. She immediately went for his collar because of course she did. Little menace had proper timing.

"Oh, look at you!" Some woman he vaguely recognized as his mum's friend appeared at their table. "Always knew you'd be good with kids. Speaking of…" she gave him a knowing look. "Saw those pictures of you and that lovely girl. Army officer's daughter, isn't she?"

"Here we go," Marcel muttered, earning another kick from Tyler.

"You two look proper sweet together," the woman continued, completely oblivious. "Really hope this one works out. Would love to see more little ones around soon!"

Trent nearly choked on his water while Marcel started properly cackling.

"You alright there?" his dad asked, while Tyler tried (and failed) to hide his grin.

"Fine," Trent managed, bouncing Aura who was still determined to expose his neck to the whole restaurant. "Just… went down wrong."

"Sure it did," Marcel said under his breath. "Nothing to do with certain… marks."

This time both Tyler and Trent kicked him.

"So," his mum started, using that tone that meant an interrogation was coming, "when are we going to meet her properly then?"

Trent focused on helping Aura with her sippy cup. "Bit early for all that isn't it?"

"Early? It's all over the papers that you're together."

"Doesn't mean we need to rush things," he muttered, while Marcel made whipping sounds under his breath.

"Those photos though," Liv cut in, probably trying to help but making it worse. "Tyler was right about working with her. She's got proper talent hasn't she? The way she captured you - all artistic but still real."

"She's got a good eye," Tyler agreed. "Brands are going mental for those shots."

"See?" His mum wasn't letting this go. "She's practically family already, working with Tyler–"

"Mum."

"I'm just saying! Would be nice to have her round for Sunday dinner sometime."

The thought of April at a family dinner - knowing what she did to him behind closed doors - had his face burning. She'd probably whisper something filthy in his ear just to watch him squirm in front of everyone.

"Let the boy breathe," his dad cut in. "They'll tell us when they're ready."

They. Like it was already settled. Like April hadn't made him sign a proper contract about family meetings.

"I just want to make sure she's good enough for our Trent," his mum said, and Marcel actually snorted his drink.

If she only knew. April was so far out of his league it was actually mental. Here they were worrying if she was good enough for him when really, he was the one trying to earn her approval every day.

"Trust me mum," Tyler said with a knowing look that made Trent want to sink into the floor. "She's exactly what he needs."

Proper violation how right he was about that.

"At least she's local," his dad said, like that made everything simple. "Not like that London lot you were hanging round with before."

"Sophie was alright," his mum defended, making everyone at the table groan.

"Sophie was about as scouse as caviar," Marcel muttered.

"And about as warm as Anfield in December," Tyler added.

Aura chose that moment to properly grab Trent's collar, nearly exposing everything. He caught her hand just in time, but not before Marcel's eyes went wide.

"Bruv," his younger brother mouthed, looking properly scandalized.

"Shut it," Trent mouthed back.

"Is she treating you right?" his mum continued, oblivious to the collar situation. "These artistic types can be… different."

Different. If she only knew.

"She's good to me mum," he said carefully, while Marcel fake-coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "very good."

"Must be," Tyler couldn't help adding. "Never seen him this happy."

"Or this covered up," Marcel whispered, earning simultaneous kicks from both brothers.

"Oi!" Liv cut in. "What's with all the kicking?"

"Nothing," all three brothers said at once, making their parents exchange that look they'd perfected over years of raising three kids.

"Right," their dad said slowly. "Anyone for dessert?"

Thank fuck for dessert menus and their ability to end awkward conversations. Though knowing his family, this wouldn't be the last time they brought up April.

He just hoped next time he wouldn't be wearing quite so many marks to hide.

The Vitality Stadium was proper packed, and Trent's head was everywhere but the pitch. His overnight bag in the coach's hold felt like it was burning a hole in his mind - that new ring from Eindhoven, April's promised punishment, everything that was coming after.

"Earth to Trent!" Robbo shouted during their stretches. "You with us mate?"

He wasn't. Not really. His first touch in warm-ups was shocking, the ball bouncing off his foot like he'd never played football before.

Focus. Football first. Pleasure later.

The match started, and Trent's mind was still in London. His first three passes went straight to Bournemouth players, earning him a yell from Slot on the touchline.

"What's got into you?" Virgil called after Trent misplaced another cross. Even the easy balls weren't coming off - like his body had forgotten everything it knew about football.

Mo somehow managed to score in the 23rd minute despite Trent's wayward passing, putting them 1-0 up against the run of play. Pure instinct that - nothing to do with Trent's contribution.

Slot had them playing deeper in the second half, probably trying to minimize the damage Trent's shocking performance could do. Every touch felt wrong, every decision a split second too late. The gaffer kept looking at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Bournemouth came at them hard after the break, targeting Trent's side like they knew he wasn't right. He took a tackle from their winger, didn't even see it coming.

"Head in the game," Virgil said as he helped him up, proper concern in his voice. "Where are you today?"

In London. In April's flat. Anywhere but where he needed to be.

The last ten minutes were torture - Bournemouth throwing everyone forward, Trent barely hanging on. When the final whistle blew - somehow at 2-0 - his legs were trembling from relief more than anything.

"You alright?" Virgil asked as Trent rushed through his post-match routine, desperate to get out of there.

"Yeah just... got plans."

"Plans that involve sorting your head out? Because that wasn't you today."

"Sorry." He couldn't even argue - it had been shocking.

"Just... be careful yeah? Whatever's going on..." Virgil gave him that captain's look. "Don't let it affect your game."

Too late for that. Everything was affecting his game lately - April, the contract, the punishment coming his way. Football used to be simple. Now nothing was.

But they'd won. Somehow. Despite him playing like he'd forgotten which sport this was.

Maybe April would punish him for that too.

The train from Bournemouth to London felt endless. He'd gone full incognito again - puffer jacket, balaclava, the works. His legs were heavy from the match, and his mind was heavier with thoughts of what April would say about his performance.

A group of lads further down the carriage were watching match highlights on their phones. He could hear their commentary - "TAA's not himself today" and "proper shocking that." They weren't wrong, were they?

His mind wandered to what April might have planned. Punishment for the Sophie thing, obviously. But now probably extra punishment for playing like he'd forgotten how football worked. That's how it worked now - every mistake had consequences, and today had been full of them.

The woman across the aisle was reading the Mail's article about them on her phone. There was that photo again - him bent down to April's height, looking proper lovesick. The headline called them "Liverpool's New Power Couple" which was laughable really. Only power dynamic between them involved him on his knees, and after today's performance, he'd probably be there a lot.

London got closer with every station. His overnight bag felt heavy in his lap - that new ring buried under his clothes, along with other things April had "suggested" he bring. Each item carefully chosen to push his limits.

The tube was packed with Saturday night crowds - couples heading to dinner, groups out clubbing. None of them knowing that Liverpool's right back was standing there, having played one of his worst matches in recent memory, about to face whatever punishment his photographer girlfriend had planned.

By the time he reached her building, his stomach was in knots. The doorman - same one from his first visit - gave him a knowing smile as he buzzed him up.

The lift felt like it was moving in slow motion.

Deep breath.

Time to face his punishment - for Sophie, for the match, for everything. And whatever else April had planned for Liverpool's golden boy who couldn't seem to remember how to play football anymore.

The door opened before he could knock, like she'd been waiting. Pussy Galore was wrapped around April's ankles, yellow eyes judging him as usual. April stepped aside to let him in, and he dropped his overnight bag near the entryway table.

But something was different. April wasn't giving off her usual dominant energy. Instead, she looked... worried?

"What was that today?" She gestured at the muted TV still showing match highlights - him misplacing passes, getting caught out of position. "That wasn't you out there."

"I know–"

"Our professional relationship comes before anything else, you know that right?" She ran a hand through her curls, proper agitated. "I can't have you playing like that again. If this is too much, if what we're doing is affecting your game, we can end–"

"No!" The word burst out before he could stop it, echoing off the exposed brick walls. "Please, no. I was just... too much in my head today."

"About what?"

He slumped against her doorframe, the cool metal of her coat hooks pressing into his shoulder. "Everyone's seen those pictures now. Family friends, neighbors, everyone's got something to say about how I seem 'better' now." His hands clenched. "Like before I was just... I dunno. All those PR relationships, trying to be posh enough for Sophie and her lot. Changing everything about myself to fit in with that London crowd."

"And then Sophie tried stirring shit," April added softly, understanding dawning in her eyes.

"Yeah." He exhaled, watching Pussy Galore wind between their legs like she was trying to tie them together. "Just reminded me of everything I was trying to forget. All that fake stuff."

April moved closer, and for once she wasn't prowling like a predator. Her hand reached up, cupping his chin in a gesture so gentle it made his breath catch. When she pulled him down for a kiss, it wasn't like their usual ones - all heat and demand and earning his pleasure.

This was soft. Tender even. Like she understood exactly what he needed.

When they separated, he could only manage a confused "Whaa?"

She just took his hand, leading him toward the bedroom. The bag with all his "homework" supplies sat forgotten by the door.

"Should I get the ring and everything?" he asked, still thrown by this gentler version of April.

"Maybe later." She squeezed his hand. "You don't need that right now."

Her bedroom was different tonight - no candles, no toys laid out, none of the usual setup for their games. Just the soft glow of her bedside lamp and those black silk sheets he'd become so familiar with.

"Sit," she said, but it wasn't a command this time. More like... an invitation.

He perched on the edge of her bed, watching as she moved around the room. She shed her oversized jumper to reveal a simple tank top underneath - nothing like her usual dominatrix gear or those lacy things designed to drive him mental.

"You know," she said, settling next to him, "when I first met you, I could see right through all that posh act."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm." Her hand found his, fingers intertwining naturally. "Could tell you were trying so hard to be what everyone wanted. The polished footballer, the perfect boyfriend... exhausting wasn't it?"

He nodded, throat tight.

"But that night at the club? When you let that mask slip a bit?" She smiled - not her usual predatory grin, but something softer. "That's when I knew I wanted you."

"For your collection of toys?" The words came out more bitter than he'd intended.

"No." She turned his face toward her. "Because I saw someone who needed what I could give them. Freedom to just... be."

Something in his chest cracked open. Because she was right, wasn't she? All those commands, all that submission - it wasn't about being controlled. It was about being free to want what he wanted.

"Come here," she whispered, pulling him down onto the sheets. No orders, no demands, just... comfort.

He went willingly, letting her arrange them until his head was in her lap, her fingers carding through his cropped curls. Pussy Galore jumped up to join them, settling at their feet like some furry guardian.

"We can play later," April said softly. "Right now, just breathe."

So he did.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, April's fingers in his hair, the steady rhythm of her breathing matching his. No one had ever seen him like this - not Sophie with her polished expectations, not the string of PR-arranged dates, no one.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was muffled against her leg.

"Hmm?"

"Why'd you make me sign that contract? The girlfriend experience part?"

Her fingers stilled for a moment. "Because I knew you'd need boundaries. Structure." She resumed stroking his hair. "And because... maybe I needed them too."

He shifted to look up at her. "You don't usually do the relationship thing?"

"Not usually." That hint of vulnerability in her voice was new. "Most subs... they're just passing through. But you..." She smiled down at him. "You’re getting under my skin somehow."

"Was it my excellent football skills?" he joked, thinking about today's disaster of a match.

"Definitely not after today." But she was grinning. "Though knowing how you try so hard to focus during training while wearing my marks... that's pretty entertaining."

He felt his face heat up. "Proper violation that."

"You love it though."

"Yeah," he admitted. Because what was the point of pretending anymore? "Love all of it really."

Her hand moved to trace his jaw. "Even the punishment?"

"Even that." He paused. "Speaking of..."

"We're not doing that tonight." Her voice was firm but gentle. "Tonight's just... this."

"Just this," he echoed, settling back against her.

Pussy Galore stretched and repositioned herself closer to them, like she approved of this softer version of their dynamic.

"Though tomorrow..." April's voice carried that familiar edge that made his stomach flip. "Tomorrow we'll discuss your shocking performance on the pitch."

"Yes ma'am."

She tugged his hair lightly. "What did I say about tonight?"

"Sorry." He couldn't help grinning. "Just habit innit?"

"Cheeky." But she was smiling too. "Now shut up and let me hold you."

For once, that was an order he was happy to follow without any punishment needed.

********************************************

Morning light streamed through April's massive windows as she handed him coffee - black, two sugars, just like last time. Pussy Galore perched on the counter.

"Food's on the way," April said, checking her phone. "Ordered from that place around the corner."

"So you don't cook for men but you order food for them?" He couldn't help grinning.

She rolled her eyes but he caught that smile. "Yes, smartarse. Consider yourself special."

They settled at her breakfast bar, morning sun catching her curls. Something about last night had shifted things, made it easier to ask what he'd been wondering.

"Can I ask... how'd you get into all this? The dom thing?"

April took a slow sip of her coffee, considering. "Maybe I was looking for something I never had growing up? Only child, military family - we moved constantly. Prague when I was little, then Turkey, finally the States for a few years."

"Must've been hard, all that moving."

"Was proper mental. Never felt settled anywhere. Came back here for uni in Manchester and..." She smiled at some memory. "Guess I was always rebelling against structure, until I found a way to control it instead."

"How'd you figure that out?"

"Stumbled into it at uni really. Tried being a sub first - proper disaster that was." She laughed. "Turns out I'm much better at giving orders than taking them."

"No kidding," he muttered into his coffee.

"Oi!" But she was grinning. "Watch it or I'll make you eat breakfast on your knees."

His face must've done something because she actually giggled - a sound he'd never heard from her before.

"You're too easy to wind up," she said, just as their food arrived on her phone app. "Now go get our breakfast before I change my mind about being nice this morning."

He went out then returned with their food - proper full English for him, some posh avocado thing for her. Pussy Galore immediately tried to steal his bacon.

"So what was America like then?" he asked, defending his plate from the cat.

"Weird. Lived in the D.C. area because of dad's posting. Everyone thought I was proper posh because of my accent." She smirked. "Should've heard them try to understand my dad's scouse."

"Bet that went down well."

"About as well as when we moved back and everyone here thought I was American." She pushed her food around. "That's probably why I got into photography. Easier to observe than participate sometimes."

"Until you started making footballers strip for art."

"Oi!" She kicked him under the table. "That's a very small part of my portfolio, thank you very much. Though..." Her eyes got that dangerous glint. "You are one of my favorite subjects."

"Because I'm so photogenic?"

"Because you're so..." She tilted her head, studying him. "Genuine. Once you drop the act anyway. Most people in this industry, they're always performing. But you..."

"I just like being told what to do?"

"Exactly." She grinned. "Speaking of which, we still need to discuss yesterday's match."

His stomach flipped. "Thought you said no punishment?"

"That was last night. This morning..." She reached across the table, fingers trailing along his arm. "This morning we need to make sure you remember who you are."

"Yes ma'am."

"There's my good boy." Her voice had shifted into that commanding tone he knew so well. "Now finish your breakfast. You'll need your strength."

Fucking hell.

April collected their plates once they'd finished, moving with that fluid grace that meant she was shifting back into her dominant role. "Get the ring from your bag."

His heart started racing. "But–"

"This morning we're going to work on your focus." Her voice carried that edge again. "Can't have you thinking about me during matches, can we?"

He went to retrieve the ring from his abandoned overnight bag, remembering how different things had felt just hours ago - her gentle touches, the soft conversation. But this was what he needed now, wasn't it? Structure. Control.

"Strip to your boxers," she called from the bedroom. "Then kneel by the bed. Let's see if we can train that wandering mind of yours."

As he followed her commands, he caught his reflection in her full-length mirror. The marks from Eindhoven had faded, but something else was different. He looked... settled. Like he finally knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.

"Good boy," April said from the doorway, now wearing that black silk robe that meant business. "Ready to learn your lesson about focus?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Remember your safe word?"

"Anfield."

"Good." She moved closer, running her fingers through his hair before gripping it tight. "Now let's make sure you never play like that again."

His body responded automatically to her touch, to her commands. This was what he needed - not just the dominance, but the understanding behind it. She knew exactly how to push him, how to make him better.

"Color?"

"Green, ma'am."

"Perfect." That devil's smile was back. "Let's begin."

Christ.

"Today's lesson," April circled him slowly, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floor, "is about control. Focus." She stopped in front of him. "Yesterday you let thoughts of me and everyone else distract you on the pitch. That stops now."

"Yes ma'am."

"Put the ring on."

His hands shook slightly as he complied. The metal was cool against his skin, causing his dick to twitch in anticipation.

"Now," she settled on the edge of the bed, looking down at him. "We're going to work on your concentration. I want you to recite Liverpool's upcoming fixture list. Every match, every date."

His brain short-circuited. "What?"

"You heard me." Her foot traced along his thigh. "Start with next weekend."

"Tottenham at home," he managed. "Then..." Her touch was making it hard to think.

"Continue."

"Arsenal away..." He swallowed hard as her foot moved higher, gliding against his balls. "Then... fuck..."

"Language." Her voice was sharp. "And that's not the next fixture."

"Sorry ma'am. Plymouth Argyle away. Everton away."

"Good boy. Keep going."

It was torture - trying to remember dates and opponents while April tested his control in increasingly creative ways. Every time he got distracted, she made him start over.

"This," she said after he'd finally managed the full list without stumbling, "is how we train your mind to focus. To compartmentalize."

"Yes ma'am."

"If you can focus through this..." Her hand gripped his hair. "You can focus through anything. Including matches."

His whole body was trembling with need of release, but his mind felt... clearer somehow. Like she was teaching him more than just submission.

"Color?"

"Green, ma'am. So green."

"Good. Next test," April's voice was pure control. "Tactical setup for Tottenham. Formation, positioning, everything."

His knees were aching on the hardwood floor, the ring a constant reminder of who was in charge and edging him perfectly. But this was different from their usual play - she was actually training his mind.

"4-3-3," he started, then gasped as her nails dug into his shoulders. "They'll - they'll press high..."

"Keep going." Her touch was maddening. "Every detail."

"Their right winger likes to cut inside..." The words came out strained as she added another mark to his collection. "We'll need to... fuck..."

"Start again." No mercy in her voice. "And remember - good boys maintain their focus."

It went on like that - April testing his concentration while he tried to analyze football through a haze of need. Every time his mind wandered, she made him begin again. Every successful recitation earned him praise that made his chest tight.

"Understanding now?" She gripped his chin, making him look at her. "How to keep your mind where it needs to be?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Because next time you let thoughts of me affect your game..." Her nails dug in slightly deeper. "The punishment won't be nearly this pleasant."

His whole body shuddered at the threat and promise in her voice.

"Now," she stepped back, admiring the fresh marks she'd left. "One more test. Champions League tactics...." That devil's smile once more.

Fucking hell. He was never going to survive this session.

But maybe that was the point.

*****************************************

Fresh from the shower, Trent examined his new collection of marks in April's bathroom mirror. Some from training his focus, others from his rewards when he finally got it right. His fingers traced a particularly vivid one near his collarbone - that was from reciting the entire Champions League tactical setup without stumbling once.

"These are going to be fun to explain in the changing room," he called out, pulling his t-shirt on carefully.

"Better not get distracted by them during training," April responded from somewhere in the bedroom. She'd shifted back to her usual self - all mystery and edge after their moment of softness last night.

He found her organizing her camera gear, probably for some shoot later. "Hey, was thinking..."

"Dangerous habit that."

"Proper funny you are." He leaned against her doorframe. "Would you maybe want to spend a weekend with me in Liverpool? At my place? Could show you around properly..."

She turned, that familiar smirk playing at her lips. "That's not in our contract, is it?"

"Could be an extra?" He tried for casual but probably missed by miles. "If I earn it?"

"If you earn it?" Now she was properly grinning. "Bold of you to assume you can."

"I can be very convincing."

"Prove it then." She moved closer, reaching up to adjust his collar over the marks. "Show me perfect focus in training and at your matches. No distractions. No mistakes." Her fingers lingered on his neck. "Maybe then we can discuss... amendments to our arrangement."

"Yes ma'am." The words came automatically now.

"Good boy." She stepped back. "Now go. Before I decide to test your concentration again."

At her front door, he turned back one last time. "I'll make you proud next week."

"You better." But her smile was soft for just a moment.

Walking to the train station, Trent couldn't stop grinning. His body ached, his mind was properly exhausted, and tomorrow's training was going to be intense.

For the first time in ages, he knew exactly who he was and what he wanted.

Even if what he wanted involved earning the right to show his dominatrix around Liverpool.

Life was proper mental sometimes.

………..tbd

[justleaveacommentfest]

Not an ask, but a story about leaving comments -- not long ago, I left a comment on a fic from almost 10 years ago where the author, in their end notes, discussed how proud they were to have finished this fic (it was an incredible fic that was over 100,000 words long because they're a god and I would also just be shaky in the knees if I accomplished something so long and profound); and they also talked in their author's note how strange it was to be the ages of 22-24 when they were writing this fic and how things weren't always easy, and that they hoped the future was bright for them.

I commented about my life, right now, how I came to find their fic a decade years later from when they finished (a little sheepishly, it feels weird to talk about yourself, but it felt important somehow) -- anyways, I also talked about how reading their author's note reminded me very much of how I felt right now, and how different the world is now from 2015, and how this fic made me feel all kinds of nostalgic and good and hopeful about growing older, and how my god they were this good at 22 and I hope they're still writing -- and even if not, I hope all these years later they really are in a better place.

They replied. They replied! I was so delighted! They are indeed in their thirties! and they are indeed still writing! Things haven't gone as expected, but they've got a healthier dose of perspective on life and how to cope with the hard times now. And it was just so heartwarming to hear and learn about them. And to know that they're still around!

Just seeing that, seeing these people who write about hard times nine years ago, and leaving a comment and getting a reply, it just brings so much hope. Because you never know! You never know if someone's still going to be here, and so when they are it's kind of a-- not a miracle, but it just feels like I'm suddenly so very aware of my existence in the world and theirs too and it just -- it MATTERS. And ao3 and fanfiction in general is so unique to most media where you stare at a television or read a book, you can engage with the creator of that thing you're reading RIGHT THEN AND THERE. And you may not get a reply, or you might get this touching response that lets you feel like you're less alone in the world. It's worth the chance, right? That's what building community and stuff is all about! You can make so many friends this way!

And even if they never reply, don't you want them to know how important their story was to you? And it doesn't matter if the story was finished a decade ago or just posted yesterday, there's still a person that's there that gets to see how their art made an impact on the world. I've made a couple of friends doing this -- and even if I'm not making a friend, I hope I make someone's day a little brighter. God knows I'm always delighted whenever someone comments on my fics.

I admit I'm not perfect -- I don't always comment on fics that I read. I'm trying to be better, I've got a list of fics that I definitely should have written a comment on that I've been going through and writing out how I feel about their writing because damn people are just so talented. This wasn't for just leave a comment fest, I admit, but I do love to see your blog and your drive because it is such an important thing for writers.

I didn't know you were doing a valentines day thing, but what a great idea! I wanted to share my experience, hopefully inspire some other people to go out and comment, and now I'm going to go check another fic off my list of ones that I'd like to comment on. Better late than never!

Have a great day! and Happy Valentine's Day Just Leave a Comment Mini Fest!

I AM HOOTING AND HOLLERING I AM PLAYING THE XYLOPHONE ON MY RIB CAGE WHAT A STORY!!!! WHAT A BEAUTIFUL CONNECTION TO HAVE MADE THROUGH COMMENTS!!! WHAT A WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL EXPERIENCE TO HAVE HAD!!

ANON THANK YOU FOR SHARING THIS HAS MADE THIS SKELETON'S DAY

[angel-w1ngz]

I've had a revelation

I have a plot idea and I'm gonna attempt (key word attempt) to write it out. I HAVE NEVER WRITTEN FAN FICTION but the fan fics just ain't hitting right no more so it it goes. Please let me know if it's decent

Plot: you get zapped into supernatural the same way Dean and Sam got zapped into Scooby do. (You also have a massive crush on Castiel)

You arrive home after a long day working as a nurse, you hated that job. People always treated you like you were worthless whether that was doctors, patients or other nurses. You were planning on quitting your job for weeks now but you couldn't seem to find the courage.

You stepped into your grungy one bedroom apartment and kicked your shoes off. The apartment wasn't great but it was your home. You sighed and couldn't wait to just lay in bed and turn on your favorite show. Not bothering to take off your scrubs you plopped down on your bed and turned on the TV.

As you clicked play you noticed a weird purple light in the background of the TV. "No fucking way"

You immediately stood up and stepped close, tilting your head with a confused and almost curious expression. You reached your hand out touching the light before everything went black for a moment.

You opened your eyes after what felt like an eternity and looked around assessing your surroundings. 'what the hell is going on' you thought to yourself. You were smack dab in the middle of the forest late at night. You were never one for nature and to be here at night freaked you out even more.

Standing up you dusted off your scrubs and looked around before three men came running in your direction...with guns pointed at you?

"who the hell are you?!" The shorter one yelled out with a tone that was anything but friendly. It took you a moment but you recognized all three of them. You stood frozen before your jaw dropped to the floor.

"no..fucking way" you spoke, stunned at what was currently your state of life right now. Of course you loved supernatural but to be in the show, hell that was terrifying.

"answer the damn question!" Dean barked causing Castiel to put a hand on his shoulder and Sam to turn to him.

"Dean I'm pretty sure she's just..human" Sam spoke

"a human doesn't just appear out if thin air Sam!" Dean snapped.

"No no he's right, I am human, test me! Splash me with holy water and cut me with silver if you have to but you guys have to listen to me" you spoke frantically, you didn't want to end up dead here, well maybe it would've been better than back home, at least here you knew what happened afterwards.

"how do you know-?" Castiel started and was almost immediately cut off by Dean

"because she's a monster that's how!"

"Dean, let's just test her" Sam spoke as he dug into the duffle bag he had around his shoulder. He pulled out a flask and a silver knife and walked over to you. He splashed a bit of holy water over your face.

"Jesus, a bit dramatic are we?" You wiped the water off of your face and held your arm out as Sam slid the knife across.

"see? I'm human!, but I need you three to listen to me" you spoke trying to get to your point before the real monsters showed up.

"we're listening" Castiel spoke, you always loved Cas, his gruffy voice made something in your stomach drop. Hearing him in person wow you could barely stop the heat from rising to your face. Sure Misha Collins was hot but Castiel? Castiel who thought he was real? You were almost fangirling in your own head.

"this is going to sound insane" you started off, mentally preparing yourself. "Remember that time all three of you were zapped into Scooby Doo because of some haunted TV? I'm pretty sure that just happened to me..oh and yeah you guys are a show, sorta like how you guys are also books"

Dean stood there debating on whether or not to believe you. Meanwhile Castiel was trying to find some sort of sign of lying and Sam's jaw was practically on the floor.

"and how exactly did you know that happened?" Sam spoke first.

"your lives, your story, everything that's ever happened to you guys is in a TV show called supernatural" you stood there awkwardly and tried to find anything that would prove it. You dug around in your pockets before pulling out an air freshener with Sam's face on a strawberry.

"see? Merch!"

"is that..?" Sam spoke

"dude you're a freaking fruit" Dean laughed

"oh no I have one of you too Dean" you pulled out another one with Dean on a banana

"guys were getting distracted" Castiel butted in.

"right" you spoke, "I need help getting home"

Authors note

PLEASE LMK IF I DID GOOD AND ILL CONTINUE THE STORY eventually it'll lead to Castiel x reader stuff if that's what you guys want. I literally came up with this plot last night before I fell asleep and I haven't been able to find good fanfiction in a MINUTE so it's up to me now. Let me know if it's worth continuing

[offbookkeeping]

What's the origin of your blog title?

In the beginning of ep 271 of Off Book, Kisses to my Critics with Tim Murray, they chitchat for a minute about tour dates and live shoes and stuff and then they do a weird almost Swedish Accent and Jess goes "okay is there any other off book...keeping?" and Zach goes "I think that was the Offbookkeeping" and when I made this blog I was like oh that's such a good name. And now that's my name

OTP(s) Shipname:

I never know ship names so I'm just going to list ships. Donna and Laura from Twin Peaks, Marina and Zelda from The Magicians, Dee and The Waitress from IASIP, Mac and Dennis from IASIP, Nadja and The Guide from WWDITS, Quention and Elliot from The Magicians, Magenta and Columbia from Rocky Horror, all the jkeu couples lol, Patti Lupone x ME!!! MEEEE!!

Favourite colour:

Green (it's a sign that that question is green)

Favourite game:

I don't really play games but I played Portal once that was fun

Song stuck in your head:

Angel - Fleetwood Mac

Weirdest habit/trait?

I have to always have my hair off my neck when I'm not at school or out and about. Unless I have guests over or I need to look good my hair is in a claw clip. I sleep in a claw clip. It makes my hair curly though that's a plus

Hobbies:

Listen to & collecting music, reading, keeping a diary, blues fusion dance, organizing, watching movies, photography, writing letters

If you work, what's your profession?

Im unemployed atm but Im going to be a librarian someday

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

Actor. Or late night talk show host. Or archivist

Something you're good at:

Photography and gift giving. Not to aound vain but like I'm REALLY good at gift giving

Something you're bad at:

Math, cleaning, drinking a healthy amount of caffeine

Something you love:

My dog Olive

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

How everything in comedy is entwined, jazz history, which muppets are my favorite, Bobs Burgers, actresses I like, just music in general, my family history, catholic saints, drag queens, Little Edie Beale

Something you hate:

the word slurry, bananas, chalkboards

Something you collect:

Vinyls, cds, teeth, deer themed stuff, leather jackets, stevie nicks merch, rosaries, Joan Didion book, art of myself

Something you forget:

What day it is! Constantly! Also what I look like

What's your love language?

Tense sapphic staring, and gifts. Also casual intimacy and like touch kind of. Like I will give a sensible kiss on the cheek and a lingering hand on a shoulder or something but that's it

Favourite movie/show:

atm my favorite movies are Clue, Grey Gardens, WWDITS, and The Royal Tenenbaums. My favorite shows are PIBE, Arrested Development, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Bobs Burgers, and American Horror Story: Coven

Favorite food:

Ravioli

Favorite Animal:

Deer

What were you like as a child?

Annoyingly nerdy and ugly and precocious. Adults liked me and I NEEDED their approval

Favourite subject at school?

when I was a kid, english. Now, history

Least favourite subject:

Math and science

What's your best character trait?

I'm very thoughtful and an excellent conversationalist

What's your worst character trait?

Extremely forgetful and short tempered

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

Ngl I'd have a different face but that's depressing

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

Well... she's alive but Patti Lupone or Stevie Nicks. Otherwise, Leonard Cohen

Anyone who wants to join can! I'm too tired to go and see who hasn't been tagged

Get to know your mutuals!!!

cheers @stevie-marigold for tagging me!

What's the origin of your blog title?

doccy who! plus me mum always used to say i have telescopic arms. personally i think they're a normal length

OTP(s) Shipname:

johnlock, i will forever be a johnlocker no matter which version of those freaks we're talking about

Favourite colour:

orange <3

Favourite game:

factorio! i greatly enjoy the spagetti of it

Song stuck in your head:

antmusic by adam and the ants

Weirdest habit/trait?

darling everything i do is deeply weird, couldn't do something normal if i tried

Hobbies:

writing, reading, nuisance making, music enjoying, getting in the way, and various wool-related crafts

If you work, what's your profession?

im the imp who sits in your camera and paints the pictures for you (im out of blue btw)

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be?

id invent hexopostcards, which are hexagonal postcards and only have pictures of six sided things on. if a thing has more than six sides than you've got to have the seventh+ side(s) off the edge of the postcard. if it has less than six you have to draw where the rest of the sides could feasibly be. then id retire

Something you're good at:

answering questions truthfully

Something you're bad at:

eating dog food

Something you love:

doing jigsaws

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff:

doccy who. i just do that anyway

Something you hate:

jigsaws that have too much sky so its all just blue (doesn't include my starry night puzzle)

Something you collect:

vinyls, posters, things ill use someday, names, ideas of things to write

Something you forget:

my best friends birthday. i have it written down and i still forget consistently

What's your love language?

circular gallifreyan

Favourite movie/show:

oh theres so many. doccy who and torchwood, sherlock, merlin (im really from a specific time going by those answers) loads of films too but, to say an obscure one to make me sound cool, mcfarland usa

Favourite food:

the souls of the damned. failing that pasta

Favourite animal:

@zelda-wheelz

What were you like as a child?

weird nervous about everything and a nerd

Favourite subject at school?

maths! don't ask me to remember a single thing from my alevels though

Least favourite subject:

drama. hated acting in front of all those eyes

What's your best character trait?

i like to think im quite nice

What's your worst character trait?

asking @zelda-wheelz the answers for half these questions

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be?

id move

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet?

george michael, so long as i can bring my mum

tagging: @captainfairygodmother @b1uetrees @by-gray

[majflodder]

Bullet Train was released on the 4th of August 2022, so happy one year anniversary to the movie that became my favourite movie of all time

[emometalhead]

.

[sciderman]

i relate to peter parker because i’ve had six crushes this year alone

damn son save some for the rest of us!!

[cosmogyros]

.

[uitzinnigmp3]

.

[dragonji]

have to be honest guys its actually going Really Badly again.

[astrxealis]

sorry to ffxivlovepost always anyway Man the way the devs & game did so good in making an mc that is Basically a blank-slate for the players, and there's so many opportunities to make your oc However you like but. the game itself adds so much story and character to that blank-slate guy. amazing

[skrunksthatwunk]

jumpscared by least favorite seasonal chore

[eggmeralda]

when I was 19 in 2019 I got these Vibes about 2023, it wouldn't be good or bad it would just be a Significant year

2020 was so bad that 2021 could only be better, it started good and then I got paranoid that 2022 was gonna be bad in comparison, so I mentally prepared myself for 2022 months in advance

then by the summer 2021 suddenly became worse than all of 2020 combined, but it improved by about september

bc of the mentally preparing myself months before, 2022 was amazing, but bc it started so good I got the feeling that it wouldn't end well

the last 4 months were pretty bad, and then came 2023

I got many different vibes for it over the past 4 years, but one of the main things was that there'd been a pattern going since 2015

2015: extremely good

2016: extremely bad

2017: average

2018: pretty decent

2019: extremely good

2020: extremely bad

2021: average

2022: pretty decent

so 2023 was expected to be really good? but also it had to get up from 2022's bad ending so the goodness was gradual

my brain is prepared for a good last 4 months to compare to 2022's bad last 4 months

but also following the pattern, 2024 should be extremely bad, and once I've got the thought in my head that a year will be bad, there's no going back. which would explain the extremely bad year following an extremely good year

2015 and 2019 were unreal, which meant 2016 and 2020 would've looked bad in comparison no matter what, so they just completely gave up and decided to be awful

but anyway it's 'getting paranoid about next year' season, also I can never escape the patterns of time etc etc

[starboundsingularities]

good lird they did not make a gimmick blog about a real life murder

#someone fucking DIED but whatever who gives a shit it's funny i guess

7 notes

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

honestly with how suspicious and confusing everything on the dl-6 case was i wouldn't be surprised if it came out that it was that prosecutor guy tbh

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

date posted: june 23, 2010

1,834,853 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

ok hear me out. what abt winston payne though

🧊 just--ice Follow

okay now they're just making lawyers up

#also didn't mvk die or something?

28,932 notes

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

why the fuck are you people still posting about the gavinners as if theyre not copaganda. didn't the guitarist get convicted of murder

🎸 guiltiest-lovers837 Follow

so fucking tired of this "um um didn't daryan get convicted of murder" YEAH AND HE'S LITERALLY NOT IN THE FUCKING BAND ANYMORE. dipshit

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

are you gonna address the copaganda thing or

1,092 notes

🌻 attorneybout Follow

he's so. 😳

📂 trialanderror Follow

why is he defending

📂 trialanderror Follow

OP WHY IS HE DEFENDING???

24,374 notes

🦈 giantlakemonsters Follow

i just wanna hear about another gourdy sighting thats all

🥜 liberdeez Follow

op. i'm so sorry op. gourdy isn't real you have to let her go. they had a whole trial about it.

🔐 wrightorwrong Follow

hi!! so this isn't actually the case as while gourdy was briefly mentioned in a trial, said trial had nothing to do with whether or not gourdy was "real" per se as much as. well. murder, actually. while gourdy WAS found out to be an inflatable steel samurai this was not brought up in the case at all as the veracity of gourdy wasn't really as relevant as the fact that the witness was looking for gourdy rather than at the murder she claimed to have seen. plus this was also a relatively small part of a MUCH larger trial which for those interested not only solved the dl-6 case but ALSO marked the end of prosecutor von karma's ~40 year long record and the court records are really a fascinating read through!!

🦀 mad_libz_87 Follow

net 0 information post

#thanks again lawblr

94,834 notes

🍒 cherriescoola Follow

btw i was at the park the other day and klavier gavin (of gavinners fame) was there and obv there was a huge crowd but this guy was there with him and at some point he (the other guy) waved to the crowd and someone still screamed like it was klavier??? who was that guy ive never seen him before in my life

2,284 notes

🩸 has-dl6-been-solved-yet Follow

December 28, 2016

YES!!!

702,947 notes

🪙 tellerlikeitis Follow

guys help i'm a bank teller and this guy just introduced himself as robin banks what do i do

🔪 violencekilling Follow

you gotta let him rob you that's the law

302,948 notes

👻 ghostesswiththemostest Follow

look if i ever get convicted of murder im just hiring the lawyer with the coolest sounding name

💼 courtofwaw Follow

bestie if you already got convicted it is Too Late

62,193 notes

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

guys i know it's real fun to think people just can predict whatever but if you look at the earliest reblogs of that post that "guessed" the true killer in the dl-6 case it was actually a post about how they didn't want to go to the store. clearly edited

#stg nobody bothers to factcheck anything anymore

7,293 notes

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

i am NOT homophobic or whatever the fuck you guys are saying now i just think its weird to write fanfiction about realass people?? go touch grass ffs

🌈 lawsbian Follow

the fun police (this guy) putting me in yaoi court but the lawyers (phoenix witrght and miles edgeworth) just keep trying to make out (real court is like this too btw)

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

YOU HAVE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU.

#look idc what your enemies to lovers fic bullshit says #they're straight. and more importantly REAL PEOPLE. #there's TENSION because they are in COURT and there are LIVES on the LINE. #not because they wanna fuck. god.

12,293 notes

🔮 inhighspirits Follow

why dont they just ask the spirit mediums to ask the victims who killed them this law shit is easy

837,495 notes

💞 lawveyourself Follow

seriously i cant believe they gave this guy a law degree

💞 lawveyourself Follow

what do you mean evidence fraud

503,893 notes

🎧 instrumentalillness Follow

fuck you *unguilties your love*

384,568 notes

🎀 copiicat Follow

perjury isnt illegal btw in fact if youre one of tge witnesses youre legally required to lie on the stand. thats why everyone does it. trust me

[sonolynn]

Forbidden Fruit

summary | Jace didn't want her, but Aemond did.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags | 18+ MDNI, Jealously, Aemond yearning, explicit sexual content, mentions of bastards, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, size kink (?), oral f!receiving, Angst if you squint. "Technical" infidelity but is it really if Jace started it? (yes). ooc!Aemond (probably). NOT PROOF READ (its one am, leave me alone).

w.c | 3.8k

note(s) | My first smut fic!! Ah I'm scared...I also think I have a problem with making Aemond want fem!reader when he rightfully can't have her. Also I swear I'm not a Jace hater!! I love Jace, but in this fic specifically I made him long and wish for Baela.

____________________________________________

“Why don’t you marry her then?” 

Aegon’s voice was taunting, as if pushing Aemond to say something. Aemond stared down at the cup in front of him; even with a stoic expression, his mannerisms betrayed him. He tapped his finger against the edge of the cup, he picked at the skin around his nails on the opposite hand-all the tell tale signs of thinking, a mind that cannot be stopped. 

“Because she is betrothed to Rhaenyra’s bastard.” His voice dripped with malice as he spoke. Aemond hated that Jacerys would inherit the throne enough; What his bastard nephew didn’t need was the girl Aemond had wished for his entire life. Ever since the two of them were children Aemond had a…weird infatuation with her. When he was a boy, he would pick flowers from the garden and he would purposely do good deeds for her, just to have her hug him or smile graciously at him. 

But now, everything was different. She was a woman grown, and him a man grown. She was to be engaged to his bastard nephew, and he would have to sit and watch as they shared a kiss, held hands, smiled and danced as newlyweds. He’d have to hold a straight face as the two of them left to Jacerys’ bed chamber, only knowing the connotations that came with what would happen on their wedding night. 

Ignoring his brother's tedious rants about hells knows what, Aemond stood from his chair, opting for a walk in the gardens.

____________________________________________

Aemond walked, hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze drifted into nothingness as he walked with just his thoughts, and the cool breeze that accompanied the summer evenings. He tried to distract himself from the thoughts of her, for they were all almost too painful to ever truly think about. 

But he couldn’t help himself. He thought of her as a sickness, one that lingered and grew stronger by the day until it fully consumed your every waking moment. He thought of her laugh just as contagious as the plague, her eyes as intoxicating as the finest of wines. He thought her to be a type of sickness, and he so desperately wanted to be affected. 

Aemond was never one to smile-one to truly-smile, his half smirks or half smiles were only ever in a sarcastic sense, but for some reason his smiles were real with her. With her he laughed a little more, with her he walked a little faster. He knew it was stupid, perhaps perpetually idiotic-to ever think, let alone long for such a pure and innocent creature. 

As Aemond walked, he noticed her sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. She looked breathtaking, he thought to himself. Her hair was down and cascaded down her shoulders, her face was just the perfect amount of shaded with the moon's light. And above all, she held that intoxicating smile that she always held. He never knew why she was always smiling, nor did he wish to find out. 

She turned her head, her smile widening at the sight of Aemond. 

“Aemond!” Her voice was cheerful, slowly standing as he walked towards her. 

“Princess,” Aemond smiled-a half smile-at her as he looked around, then slowly back at her. “It’s quite late. Should you not be in your chambers?” 

She always thought the way he cared for her, even if he didn’t show it outright, was extremely enticing. She knew how he was with others, but she knew the differences he had with almost everyone in court-so what made her so different? Why her, the object of the second son's affection. 

“Perhaps I do not wish to sleep. Perhaps…I quite like the quietness of the garden.” She smiled innocently, looking back towards the fountain as she started to walk. Aemond knew her well enough to see that this was a quiet plea for him to join her; Because no matter how much she enjoyed the quietness of the garden, she enjoyed it much more when he was with her. 

Aemond stared at her, as he often did, but this time, it was different. The stare he held was nothing short of primal. He watched the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him and for some reason, now, he wished to watch as the innocent light in her eyes slowly dwindled as he claimed her. 

“Aemond? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped his thoughts back, if only for a moment. She stopped walking to look up at him and she crossed her arms underneath her chest. His eye trailed down slowly, fixating on the way that her cleavage just slightly out of her dress. He was like a man starved; Clinging to the littlest of details that would make his imagination run wild. 

She seemed to notice the way that his eye raked over her chest like a starving man, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She-though subconsciously-reached up to place her arm over her chest, but to her surprise, Aemond gently took her hand, and when she looked up, his one sapphire eye was locked with hers. 

“You needn’t cover up. Not around me.” He spoke calmly, though his heart was racing and his head spinning. He let out a shaky breath as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes. 

She watched him carefully, searching his gaze for anything that would betray him. In truth she didn’t know what she was searching for, but she felt as if she should be searching for something. 

Aemond lifted a hand, placing the back of his knuckles against her hot cheek. The gesture was gentle, and slow, something he was not known for. His eye slowly trailed down her face, and his eye caught on her lips, his breath heavy as he reached his hand up and gently placed his thumb over her plush bottom lip. 

Her eyes followed his, big, and full of longing. She stared at him as his thumb pushed against her lip. She didn’t know exactly what to do; She knew that this moment was intimate, far too intimate to be happening between a betrothed woman and a bachelor. But, the way he gazed at her made her feel hot, and the way he trailed his hand over her face and body made her want to see where this could lead. 

His free hand shakily went up to her waist, cupping it firmly as he brought her closer. He leaned forward, just slightly, till his nose was pressed against hers. Her breath hitched, and her eyes instinctively closed. She waited for him to press his lips against hers, to feel his mouth on hers like she had (shamefully) always wished for. But, it never came. 

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aemond breathing heavily, desperately trying to restrain himself. He pulled away slightly, and he shook his head,

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you…not like this.” Though his words held conviction, it seemed his body betrayed him. His hand stayed on her waist, slowly trailing up and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped softly at the feeling, and his thumb went to her lip again before he connected his lips to hers. She responded immediately, putting her hands on his arms. 

He kissed her like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled her flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup her face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have her closer. He opened his mouth, causing her to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Her mouth moved with his as if it was known to her; As if this was a dance she had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of her lips was a song that Aemond had mastered just for her. 

She practically melted in his arms. She had been kissed before; Jace was a good kisser but he was soft, and the kisses were never not chaste. But, kissing Aemond was like walking through fire. Her entire body reacted to the way he clung to her body, how he pulled her impossibly closer. It was like a fire had escaped through his lips and was now coursing through her veins and settling in her abdomen. 

Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, it seemed her body did. Her hands slid down his arms and slowly made their way to his chest as she moaned softly. 

The moan grounded him, like he had been falling from the heavens and down to earth. He suddenly pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. Her eyes opened steadily, and she looked up at him with confusion while a frown graced her kiss swollen lips. 

“We shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke breathlessly, his hand still gently stroking her side. 

“Maybe not..but it felt good.” Gods, the way she spoke held him in a chokehold. He wished desperately to dive back into her; To drown in her lips and never come up for air, but.. 

“Not again. You are to be married.” He suddenly pulled away and at the feeling of his hands leaving her body, she frowned deeper. 

“Aemond-” “Goodnight, Princess.” 

And with that, the prince turned and rushed back into the keep. 

____________________________________________

Aemond couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, picking at his nails, biting his lip-genuinely anything to help stop the incessant thoughts of her lips. 

The thoughts started off sweet and innocent. The way she looked up at him as he trailed his thumb over her lip, the way her lips pursed just slightly when he leaned forward. 

But then the thoughts got venereal fast. He thought about how he felt to finally kiss her. The way his lips practically burned when they pulled away. He knew that as he gazed at her kiss swollen lips his night would be harbored with thoughts of what they’d look like doing gods knows what else. 

His hand slid down underneath the sheets, firmly grasping at his length as he let out a shuddering breath. He hated doing this; Feeling so pent up and so desperate that he had to resort to using himself. But as of right now he couldn’t care less. 

He imagined her lips around his cock, her innocent eyes gazing up into his. He’d imagine the way she’d gag around him, how her lips would look kissing the head of his cock. 

He groaned at the thought, his head tipping back as he closed his eye and let his thoughts wander more. He’d think about how she’d look with his seed covering her lips and her chin, how she’d moan his name as he devoured her between her legs-

He peaked with a gasp, and a low moan of her name. The minute his orgasm washed over him, and he started to slowly come down, he felt an intense feeling of guilt, shame, but most of all pain. 

Guilt and shame because he hated himself for touching himself to someone who couldn’t be his. 

Pain because she’d never be his. Pain because he knew that no matter what he did, she’d still be betrothed to Jacerys. 

____________________________________________

The next morning, she sat alone at breakfast, supposedly liking it more that way. With her fiance practically ignoring her, and her father too entranced with kissing the king's ass, she learned to enjoy the solitude of just…nothing. 

Plus, she always had her thoughts. Even if they were only occupied with Aemond. 

She played around with the food on her plate as her mind trailed. She remembered the way he kissed her, how he held her. She felt happy, something she so rarely felt with Jacerys. 

She knew how he felt, how he longed for and wished for Baela. She did not blame him, she was beautiful, but she also didn’t feel sad, which, at a point did bother her but, not so much. 

At least, not after last night. 

She smiled to herself as she thought about the kiss, wishing that he would do it again, longing for the way the heat escalated through her body. 

She didn’t register the voice next to her until it spoke her name. 

She looked up, surprised. But, when her eyes met with Aemond’s, her heartbeat quickened, and she smiled. 

“Aemond.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” “You’re not eating.” “Oh,” Her cheeks flushed red for a reason unbeknownst to her, and with a soft huff, she pushed the plate away, “It seems as though I have lost my appetite.” 

Aemond looked concerned at that, and he looked down at her. Despite himself, he found himself worrying yet again for her comfort, her needs. 

“Is something the matter?” She shakes her head, but for some reason, Aemond was persistent. “If this is about what happened last night, then I should apologize-” 

“Apologize?” She interrupted, sitting up straighter at the mention of the word. “Why?” 

“Yes…apologize. Because we should not have done that-”

“But I wanted it to happen.” 

Aemomd stopped and he slowly looked towards her. His eye pierced into hers as if to read every thought and emotion that crossed her brain. He just simply couldn’t believe her. 

“You shouldn’t say things you do not mean, Princess.”

“You don’t know that I don’t mean it.”

“Princess-”

“Aemond.” She said his name as if to challenge him, and he knew that he truly could never challenge her. He saw it in her eyes, he saw by the way she looked at him and smiled that she wished for him just as he wished for her. But these feelings-these blockages-would only cause unnecessary trouble. 

“Please, do not give me a hope that cannot be upheld.” Her heart broke a little at that, and, as he stood to leave, she instinctively stood with him, taking his wrist in her hand as she pulled on his arm. As if the small gesture would stop him from walking, (it did). 

“Aemond please..You do not know what I wish for.” 

His lip curled down into a small frown as he looked at her. He knew what she felt-at least he thought he did-but even if his suspicions were right, even if she did wish for him like how he longed for her, he couldn’t. He may dislike, perhaps even hate his nephew, but he was better than stealing his fiance. 

Right?

“We cannot. To be with you would disgrace your family and the alliance-” 

“Fuck the alliance!” She swore, her eyes boring into his as she studied his face. “Fuck the alliances Aemond, I wish for you. Desperately, I wish for you. Jace does not see me like how you do. Jace does not make me feel the way that you do-”

“It does not matter if Jace makes you happy or if he makes you feel desired-” “He does not wish for me as you do!”

“Princess-” “You do not understand! We are speaking of breaking it off. Neither of us wish for this.” Aemond went quiet at this and he sighed heavily, turning his full body towards her. He pried his arm away from her, staring at her incredulously, his body language giving no open window to how he was truly feeling. With no words coming from him, she continued. 

“I love you.” At those words Aemond showed his shock. He took a step back from her and he raised an eyebrow. 

“You do not mean-”

“Oh for the love of-Yes! I mean it! I love you, Aemond! I love you as if it is breathing! Instinctively, not thinking about it….I love you.” 

Aemond couldn’t hold it anymore, he walked to her and gripped her face tightly, her cheeks squishing slightly in his grasp as he smashed his lips against hers. She initially was shocked at the sudden kiss, but she kissed him back fiercely, holding his wrists as she leaned up to kiss him deeper. 

He led her back until he pressed her back against the table, holding her thighs as he pushed her onto the table. His body fit perfectly in between her thighs, just like he imagined it would. His hands gripped her thighs, one of his hands traveling up, feeling and savoring the soft skin as he groaned. 

She pulled away from the kiss to leave small kisses along his jaw. He bit his lip at the feeling, the action presumably so innocent and so sweet it almost made him chuckle. 

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense and lust filled as his hand trailed underneath her breasts. 

“Tell me to stop.” He demanded. His head was spinning with the lust that clouded it. He waited for her to push him away, or to whimper a soft “I do not think myself ready”- But she shook her head, bringing his head back to hers swiftly to connect their lips in another passionate kiss. 

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning to himself as he left hot, open mouthed kisses against her jaw and neck. He looked down, his breath heavy as he stared down into her cleavage. He wished for nothing more than to rip her dress open and kiss every inch of her body, but being in the dining room came with its disadvantages. So, he settled for kissing her cleavage, before trailing his lips down the fabric of her dress till he came to her thighs.

Aemond pushed her dress up as far as he could, staring at her the whole time. He slowly pushed her thighs about, giving her time to stop him but she never did. Gently kissing the inner side of her thigh, he tried to reassure her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes; The way she looked at him with both anxiety and lust. He stared up at her searching for any sign or signal that would make him stop. 

“Is this okay?” Once he saw the light nod of her head, he disappeared underneath her dress. 

She had never been intimate with a man-courtesy of her father, enforcing the “Women should be pure” melodramatic speech into her head ever since she could stand. She always thought it to be a chore, only having heard stories from unhappy married women who hated their husbands, and much less disliked their children a little less, but this? This was exciting, this felt good. 

She placed a hand on his head, moaning his name under her breath as he ate her like a beast. His hands gripped her thighs as if to ground himself-He had tasted women before but for some reason she was so much sweeter, so much more divine. His eyes practically rolled back just from pushing his tongue into her heat, sucking gently on her flit before he pulled away slightly, focusing his attention on her clit as he dipped a finger inside of her. 

The sudden stretch made her jump, and gasp loudly. She may have pleasured herself before but it really never felt like what Aemond was doing to her. He eased his finger in slowly, dragging it back out, and then slowly pushing it back in. Hearing the moans that graced her lips, he continued the slow thrust of his finger for a moment before he added another one. 

She let out a loud moan, a hand on the back of his head as she pushed his head closer to her heat. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure. She moaned loudly, perhaps too loudly for comfort, but Aemond only seemed to want more of those noises to come from her. 

He slowly curled his fingers, his mouth praising her clit. The added pressure with the curl of his fingers, and the sucking of her clit made her eyes squeeze shut. 

“Oh gods Aemond, I’m going to-” Just as her orgasm was going to consume her, it stopped. With her heavy breathing, and slightly shaky legs, she slowly sat up. Aemond smirked up at her, holding her gaze as he nipped at her inner thighs. “You stopped..” 

“Yes. Because if you are going to peak it should be on my cock.” 

Her face flushed at the words, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled his trousers down slightly to free his throbbing cock. As their eyes met, he seemed to notice the slight anxiety in her eyes, because he pressed his forehead against hers and lined himself up with her entrance. 

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” She nodded in response, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he pushed into her. She let out a gasp; The feeling was new, discomfiting but..new. Her face scrunched up at the stretch, and Aemond shushed her quietly as he started to move. After a few thrusts, her body relaxed, and she started to moan his name. 

Hearing his name fall from her lips was like a prayer answered, like a lifelong dream he had been waiting for. He grunted as he started to rock his hips back and forth into her slowly. It took everything inside of him to not pound into her, to fuck her like he had fantized about. He wished that her father could see her now, her maidenhood gone and her body fully submitting to the pleasure he so gracefully gave her. 

“Aemond..Aemond oh gods-” Her voice broke as he went faster, her moans only getting louder. She tried to wrap her mind around the pleasure he was giving her, the way his hips moved slowly yet deeply, the way the tip of his thick cock rubbed against the spot so deliciously. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she held him close to her. 

One of his hands was on her thigh, the other on the table as he thrusted into her, as if holding the edge of the table would stop the creaking sounds, or the way she moaned his name, or how his groans got louder as his climax approached. 

White splattered her vision as her orgasm washed over. She cried out his name in pleasure, holding him close as his legs trapped him inside of her. The feeling of her core pulsating and tightening made Aemond’s head spin, and he grunted out a moan of her name as he came himself, spilling his seed inside of her. 

As the two sat there, basking in the afterglow of being intimate, neither of them would move for what felt like hours. Even though the position that they were in was compromising, they smiled, and laughed softly at the situation itself. 

Once they both got cleaned up-the best they could get cleaned up for just having sex on the dining room table-Aemond took her hand. She smiled softly at Aemond, her heart racing in a new, and exciting way. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to wrap their minds around the fact that now, they could truly be together, or at least, now, they had a hope that they could be together.

____________________________________________

[niningtori]

an iron man | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: beomgyu has only ever known how to live function as a rental sexbot. he fucks whoever and whatever comes his way with a forced smile plastered on his face. that is, until you, a self-proclaimed trainwreck, come along.

genre: android!au, sexbot!au, angst, romance, fluff (more than i ever thought i could ever write i fear...), skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

warnings: very brief and vague mentions of beomgyu being forced to engage in sexual acts he does not want with previous clients, skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, praise, dacryphilia, sub!gyu

word count: 14.7k (trust i will not be writing this much again if this flops BWNWJSJEJDK)

notes: terrified to post this one because this is probably my favorite thing i've ever written and if it gets a bad reaction i might die :,) also very unsure if this is the best time to post it since it's during kinktober so i'm not sure if the demand is there but i love this work so so much i pray you all like it. if you don't read anything else from me, i hope that you read this bc i rlly care ab it :,) please don't be mean i beg

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he’s been living like this. living is an odd term, too, and it’s not just because “life” is ill-defined for an android, but because to call what he experiences a life feels like a bastardization of the term. his power is turned on at some point, usually late at night, he fucks or gets fucked by somebody he probably doesn’t know, then he does the same shit all over again. so yes, he may be “alive”, but he wouldn't dare to call what he experiences living. living is too precious of a term to be used so cheaply on a sex android who’s made available for rent to the highest bidder of the night.

he’s seen how people live through his scattered vignettes of human life. he only gets them when he’s powered on, but he soaks them up with pleasure because they’re the only thing he’s ever known. some people do it wildly, living unattached to everyone and everything. their lives are not completely dissimilar to his, in a way, except they have a choice in the matter. they have time to find themselves, what their likes and dislikes are, and they get to connect with people in a way he will never have the power to. others, though, live the kind of life he really wants. they live by loving and being loved, knowing and being known. he wonders what it’d be like to know somebody outside of whatever secret deviant sexual pleasures they have. he wonders what it’s like to be known, too, but he guesses you would need to have something for someone to care enough to know about in the first place. he has no such thing.

it’s a night like any other when he’s powered on by a total stranger. he briefly takes in his surroundings and notices that it’s a really nice place, but you wouldn’t be the first rich person to rent him — not by a longshot. next, he takes you in. now, there’s no reason for you to dress up, really. you have no need to tempt him, as he will be able to feign attraction no matter what you look like, but he still finds it odd that you seem to have forgone any effort to appeal to him, if only because most people’s fantasies require them to look and feel sexy; but you don’t look sexy at all. you look like you’ve just gotten home from a long day at work, and honestly? you kind of smell like it, too.

“do you think you could do the dishes for me? i’m exhausted,” you ask with a perfectly-timed yawn. what…?

he short-circuits for a moment as he tries to think of an appropriate response. he’s never had anyone try to get him to do chores for them, but maybe this is some sort of weird roleplay? maybe you want him to act as a house husband for you before doing the deed, which isn’t necessarily a problem since he’s well-versed in acting, but there’s just one issue.

“i don’t know how,” he tells you honestly.

“you don’t know how to do dishes?” you ask curiously.

“it’s not in my programming,” he replies. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s embarrassed because of the way he hesitates and looks away from you when he says it. he can’t possibly feel that, though, so it must just be your imagination.

“oh… that’s alright. okay, do you know how to clean a room? mine’s kind of dirty,” you try. 

“n-no,” he says, and he wishes the earth would just swallow him whole. he’s never failed at living up to expectations, and never so badly, at that. just what kind of fetish is this? 

“that’s okay,” you sigh, and he may not fully understand it, but he can sense your disappointment. “well, what can you do?” and the question is not asked maliciously, but with what seems to be genuine wonder. ah. he knows how to answer this one. slowly, he walks up to you and loosens your hair. you look up at him in shock, but he just cups your face, swiping his thumb across your lower lip. 

“i can do whatever you want me to, baby,” he whispers alluringly. “just tell me how you like it.” you’re so stunned at his switch in demeanor that you forget how to speak for a moment, but you quickly recollect yourself and pry his hands off of you.

“i don’t want you to do anything,” you insist. “i’m just tired. if you can’t help me clean, that’s alright. you can watch something if you’re bored. i think that’s it. well, goodnight.” beomgyu is malfunctioning at the moment. he thinks the gears in his head might be sparking while he tries to understand this new development. you don’t give him time to process it, though. you just slam your bedroom door shut behind you. he thinks he hears you lock it, too.

genuinely at a loss at the thought that he has nothing and no one to do, he sits himself on your couch. he tries not to make himself too at home at first, just barely making a dent on it and scooting to the very edge of the cushion as to not appear to be too relaxed. what if this is some sort of test? what if you’re actually going to come out soon so you two can fuck? until then, what should he do next? thoughts like this plague him until he accepts the fact that you are actually sleeping. your obnoxiously loud snoring is a dead giveaway, and he finally, finally feels brave enough to fiddle with your remote control. 

he scrolls for something to watch. movies and shows have been on as background noise during sex before, so he’s somewhat familiar with them, but he’s never gotten the opportunity to pick for himself or actually pay attention to what's happening on screen. he settles on a romantic movie about a robot who joins human society. the robot falls in love with a human girl, but in the end, the robot has to leave the girl because the town won’t accept him, even after using him. she marries a human man and has children, and eventually grandchildren, too. she still loves the robot even though he’s gone, which he thinks is supposed to make him feel sorry for her, but all he can feel is pity for the robot, who spends the rest of his life alone. 

it’s enough to make him cry, which he shouldn’t be able to do in a non-sexual setting, but he does it, anyway. it’s just so unfair to him. the girl is able to live a normal life while the robot is doomed to be alone forever. why? because he was born different? it’s not his fault that he was invented, but he spends the rest of his time on earth paying for the crime of existing in a world not built for him. the more beomgyu thinks about it, the more wronged he feels. he’s outright sobbing by the time you plop down on the couch beside him. he jumps up and straightens his posture while trying in vain to regain his composure.

“yeah, this movie makes me cry, too,” you quietly remark. he’s silent, not because he didn’t hear what you said, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to act after being caught red handed.

“can i ask you something?” you ask in lieu of his lack of a response.

“yes,” he feebly answers.

“why are you crying?” you question with a tilt of your head, but something in him tells him that you already know.

“because the movie made me sad,” he admits after a pause.

“are androids supposed to feel things like that?” 

“... no,” he replies after a pause. 

“then why can you?” 

“i… i don't know. just please don’t say anything to my owners,” he pleads. he knows that if the company that owns him were to find out about this, he’d be scrapped in a heartbeat. or worse, they’d analyze him like a labrat to try to find the anomaly within him. his “life” as a sexbot will be over, and he’d really rather be a box of scraps than live as a case study in a lab somewhere. 

“it’s okay,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you watch him trying not to spiral. “i won’t tell them. it’ll be our secret.” beomgyu has never had a secret to share with anyone before, so he feels an overwhelming amount of excitement at the idea that he will finally have one. his chest feels warm at the thought.

“thank you,” he says with a grateful smile.

“no problem,” you reply with a yawn. “i’m tired, so i’m heading back to bed. i just wanted to get some water. goodnight, for real this time.” 

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly. you return his words with a sleepy smile and go back into your room. he finds that he’s smiling even when you leave. 

he spends the night consuming as much media as he conceivably can before he has to leave. usually, he'd be powered off after he’s done being used, so he greedily savors every moment he can. who knows if he'll ever get this chance again. when you wake up, you're surprised to see that he's exactly where you left him, still watching the screen intently.

“good morning,” you say while stretching your arms. 

“good morning,” he replies. 

“are you ready to be returned?” you ask. 

“... yes,” he lies. 

“okay. i think somebody will be here to pick you up in an hour or so. you hungry?” 

“i don't really eat,” he bashfully answers. for some reason, he's embarrassed at the fact that you're treating him like a human while he's unable to fully act like one.

“oh. i guess that makes sense,” you nod. 

things are quiet until he’s picked up, but it’s not an awkward silence. you sit next to him on the couch as you wolf down some breakfast and let him watch whatever he pleases. when he eventually hears knocking at your door, he feels an incomprehensible sense of dread.

“i think that's them,” you remark, breaking the silence. 

“y-yeah,” he replies. 

“well, it was nice to meet you,” you say, reaching out your hand for him. he’s unsure what to do with it. not missing a beat, you gently grab his hand and shake it. he's stunned at the physical contact, and he's still reeling when you let the man from the rental company in. you have a brief conversation with him before he walks towards beomgyu.

“goodbye,” you tell the android with a smile and a little wave. 

“... good—” and the man switches him off.

-

the next time beomgyu is powered on, he’s in your house again. relief floods him when he realizes it. you don’t seem as exhausted as the last time he saw you. when that was, he has no idea, but if he had to guess, he’d say it was just last night because of the fact that he’s so popular he’s rented almost every day.

“hey,” you greet him with a smile. he’s still feeling relieved before he realizes that tonight might be the night where you ask him to have sex with you. maybe you were just tired last night and had no desire to fuck, but he can tell that you’re feeling more energetic tonight. 

“i didn’t catch your name,” you add. 

“... beomgyu. i’m part of the choi line, but i’m a custom model, so they gave me a name,” he tentatively replies.

“nice,” you nod, and you briefly introduce yourself before asking if he wants to watch a movie. 

“watch… a movie?” is this some sort of euphemism for fucking? it wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard of something like this. as mentioned before, some people like movies as background noise. 

“yeah, you can pick,” you say, casually plopping down on the couch and patting the cushion next to you. he hesitantly takes your cue, and he’s mentally preparing himself for what comes next before you take a blanket and cocoon yourself in it so tightly, it’d be impossible for him to touch you.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, and he jolts a bit when he realizes that he’s been staring in disbelief. “oh, are you cold? do you want a blanket, too?” 

“‘m fine,” he replies.

“are you sure? the clothes they make you wear look a little thin,” you observe with your nose wrinkled, and he feels impossibly small under your surveying eye. “here, i’ll get you some sweats. i think soobin left some the last time he was here.” 

“who’s soobin?” he asks a little too quickly. so quickly, in fact, he doesn’t even have time to process why he even asked.

“my friend. stay here, i’ll grab them for you.” 

when you return, you have a long pair of sweatpants in hand and a big t-shirt. 

“you can change in the bathroom. it’s down the hallway and to the left, okay?” he nods in response.

he strips his clothes off as best as he can, and it feels like he’s shedding a second skin. when he’s finished undressing, he pulls on the clothes you gave him and stares in the mirror. it’s in his programming to always be mindful of how he looks, but he feels especially self-conscious now that he’s wearing a normal outfit. he fixes up his hair and clears his throat before exiting your (messy) bathroom and making his way back into your living room. he finds you fiddling with your phone before you look up at him.

“took you long enough,” you tease, and he blushes, which stuns you. just how human is this guy?

“s-sorry, i —” 

“hey, i’m just kidding. you’re fine. you look pretty good in those clothes — soobin would be jealous,” you chuckle. his ears perk up at the mention of soobin again. is he your boyfriend? he must be. why else would he have clothes at your house? is that why you don't want to sleep with beomgyu? because you have someone already? if that's the case, why rent him at all? but he is not brave enough to ask these questions, so he settles for a soft “thank you” and returns to his spot on the couch.

you toss him the remote and he catches it with ease before unsurely flipping through your streaming services. he finds something that piques his interest and turns to you with an uncertain look before you nod encouragingly. he selects it and lets it play. he doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself sinking further and further into the cushions as it progresses. 

it’s a sweet movie — a romantic comedy about an amnesic woman whose memory is wiped clean every morning, but a man falls in love with her, anyway. she never remembers him, so he has to make her fall in love with him in a new way every day. he finds himself smiling throughout it, but a particularly funny scene has him actually laughing for the first time. it’s a squeaky sort of thing, and he has never laughed before, so he’s somewhat surprised as it leaves his throat. he looks to you in trepidation, but you just smile warmly and respond with a soft chuckle of your own. he finds that he looks to you every time a new development occurs, and you always answer encouragingly. 

the end of the film surprises him. it’s bittersweet in that she never does get her memory back, but the man makes a video recounting their entire love story for her to watch every time she wakes up. it ends with them living happily together in spite of everything, and it’s enough to make him sob. he turns to you and sees that you’re teary-eyed as well, but you seem to be enjoying his reaction so much that there’s still a grin on your face. after the film ends, you can tell that he has something on his mind.

“what’s wrong? didn’t you like it?” you gently ask.

“i did. i just don’t understand,” he replies timidly.

“don’t understand what?” 

“why he would do all of that for her, i guess,” he says. 

“because he loves her. when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you always find a way,” you tell him, and the sentiment seems to strike a chord within him.

“even if they’re that different?”

“of course.”

-

beomgyu spends the following nights with this same routine. he’s switched on, sees you standing in front of him with a smile, gets comfortable, and watches as much media as he possibly can while you two chatter away about every scene. he learns much more from it than he ever did from experience with his previous renters, and he finds himself becoming more and more emotional by the day. you never try to question him or press him to explain any of his feelings, and it just makes him feel even more comfortable with you. 

one day, he even feels comfortable enough to ask you a question. the question. 

“can i ask you something?” 

“of course! what is it?” you reply in earnest. beomgyu has never directly inquired about you.

“why do you rent me? i mean, i know we watch stuff together now, but why rent me in the first place?” and even when he feels exponentially more at ease with you than he ever has in any other context, he’s still nervous when he asks it. 

“oh, my friend did it as a joke, i guess,” you shrug. “he thought i needed to get laid or something, but i’m not into stuff like that, so i just thought i’d ask you to help me clean. obviously, that’s what i actually need,” you giggle. what he feels at your words can only be described as disappointment. “stuff like that”? so you’re not into sleeping with sexbots? is it because you find them disgusting? is it because you find him disgusting? he’s not sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it.

“oh. so why don’t you buy a cleaning bot?” he asks softly, and while you are usually pretty perceptive of his emotions, you don’t register the fact that he’s at a loss right now.

“i dunno. my parents were always against that sort of thing. they thought it was wrong, i guess, so i didn’t grow up with them like everyone else did. i didn’t really have an opinion on them until i met you,” you tell him while grinning and lightly nudging him with your elbow. he tries his best to smile because, in theory, your words are really sweet. you see him as more than just another android, so why does he feel like that’s not enough? 

the fragile connection you two have made seems even more fragile now. at least, it does to him. you only met each other because of a joke your friend just so happened to make, not because of fate or the divine intervention that he always sees in the movies. maybe in another world, your friend rented a different sexbot. maybe you’d even treat them the same way you treat him. the thought alone makes something ugly burn in his chest. 

still, you are oblivious to the internal war raging within beomgyu. 

“hey, i’ve got an idea,” you tell him, and he perks up a bit. “have you ever listened to music?” 

“not really,” he replies solemnly. people have played it in the background of their sexual escapades, but he hasn’t really gotten the chance to listen the same way humans do. you finally register his crestfallen appearance, but you chalk it up to him feeling like he’s missing out. 

“why don’t we listen to some? i can play a bunch of different genres so you can find what you like,” you suggest, and he agrees to it. truthfully, he doesn’t fully understand how music can be better than movies and shows, but he is curious to find out what makes it so special. 

and special, it is. he doesn’t like every song you play, he realizes, but that’s only natural given how different they are from each other. he finds himself being drawn to the more emotional and moody ones, but he can’t help but enjoy the way you quietly sing and nod along to the more upbeat tunes. 

as you continue to sit together, you begin to fiddle with your hair. you’re scoffing and loosening it for the umpteenth time before you’re about to give up, but beomgyu stops you.

“let me do it,” he says.

“do you know how?” 

“i think i can. i’ve been watching you,” he says simply.

“... okay.” 

you turn your back to him to give him access to your hair and he scoots closer to you. closer than you’ve ever been. his touch on your head is careful as he gently gathers your hair and begins to braid it. you’re not sure how much time passes because he’s actually quite slow, but it’s relaxing all the same. you find yourself softly humming to the tune of the song playing. the lyrics are a little dark, but you follow along in earnest, and beomgyu thinks he finally understands why people like music so much. for moments like this. he tries to soak up every detail he can, from the way the light hits your frame to the melody you hum, and he wishes this moment could last forever.

but you only have so much hair, so the moment does have to end, eventually. he ties up your hair and you pull out your phone camera to admire his handiwork. admittedly, it’s a lot better than anything you could’ve done. it seems that he’s a fast learner.

“this looks perfect! thanks, beoms,” you say warmly. he’s stunned for a second at the nickname.

“beoms?” 

“yeah, like beomgyu. beoms,” you say with a casual shrug, and something in his chest blossoms. “i give all of my friends nicknames.” and something in his chest explodes at the title of “friend”. 

“you do?” he asks excitedly.

“yeah. like, i call soobin ‘soobinie’ or ‘soobie’, sometimes,” you giggle, and the bloom of hope in his chest dies with it. 

“are you two close?” he asks, even though he knows the answer will probably hurt him.

“very. he’s my best friend,” you answer fondly. oh. you’re beomgyu’s best friend — you’re beomgyu’s only friend, and tentatively at that. the idea that the deep connection he feels with you is even deeper with someone else, at least in your eyes, makes him feel sick. do you let soobin play with your hair? do you hum along to songs you’ve shown him while he does it? do you smile at him after he’s finished and compliment him on his skills? probably, probably, probably. the ugly feeling that was previously completely foreign to him now takes its usual place in his chest, and it makes his stomach hurt so much that if he could vomit, his metaphorical dinner would be all over the floor.

“oh,” is all he can say. 

-

days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, but every time beomgyu awakens, he finds you smiling up at him. this can’t be good for your bank account — he’s quite expensive to rent, after all — but he’s far too afraid to actually bring it up. what if you realize just how much money you’re sinking into him and want to stop renting him? what will he do if you don’t want him anymore? he feels an incomparable sense of dread at the thought. 

he prepares to sit on the couch and watch something, listen to music, or even play a video game with you. you two have gotten into them recently, and he’s discovered that he very much enjoys playing with you, even when you’re yelling at him and demanding that he stop letting you win. he can’t help but grin when he thinks about it. you start playing a song, and you do, indeed, invite him to sit on the couch, but you don’t sit down next to him and start babbling away about your day like you usually would. 

“do you think you could do me a favor?” you ask. 

“what, do you want me to wash your dishes?” he jokes, and you share a laugh before you say your next words, but all laughter and joy is profusely sucked out of him when you say them.

“no, smartass, but can you braid my hair for me? i’m going over to soobin’s tonight, and i want it out of my way.” 

“soobin’s?”

“yeah, it’s been a while since i’ve stayed the night, and he said we’re way past due for it,” you tell him, and the world as beomgyu knows it comes crashing down around him. 

“you’re staying the night with him?” 

“mhm. he’s right, it’s been too long; but don’t worry, i bought a pass so you can play video games online. there’s even a headset so you can talk to people, if you want. maybe you’ll even make some friends,” you say while playfully waggling your eyebrows. beomgyu’s silence is pensive, to say the very least, and you worry that he’s apprehensive of making a friend that isn't you. 

“seriously, you might like it. it’ll be good for you to meet more people, honestly. i’m sure it’s driving you crazy to only have me to talk to,” you jokingly add, but to beomgyu, it’s the worst joke he’s ever heard. no, it does not drive him crazy to only talk to you every day. in fact, even though he’s not conscious during the time you spend away from each other, he thinks, deep down, that he still somehow misses you when you’re apart. and no, he does not think he needs to have anyone but you. you are more than enough for him, so how could you ever think he needs more? again, he is taunted by that same strange and implacable feeling he’s been having ever since he met you, yet he can’t quite put his finger on it, even when he nods and tells you that he’ll try making new friends. 

but as he brushes out your hair and you sing along to the words:

"i’m glad i didn’t die before i met you

but now i don’t care

i could go anywhere with you

and i’d probably be happy"

he finally understands what that feeling is. that warm, all-consuming feeling. that feeling of comfort, safety, and unconditional understanding. that feeling of infinite curiosity about the other person. that feeling of wanting to known and be known in a way so profound it physically aches. 

yes, as he gathers your hair and ever-so-gently twists it in his hands in preparation for you staying the night with a man you clearly prefer over him, the feeling becomes clear as day. love. what he feels for you is love — an emotion he should never be able to even fathom, yet he does. 

and it makes him loathe himself to a degree he never thought he was capable of.

he’s so put off by this sentiment, he almost can’t finish the braid because his hands are shaking so much, but somehow, he finishes, anyway. 

“are you done?” you ask as you fiddle with your hair and look back at him.

“mhm,” he replies. 

“yay! thank you!” you say giddily. 

“you’re welcome,” he mumbles. you’re not stupid, so you notice that something is off about him, but you just assume it’s because he’s nervous about being left alone to make new friends. you feel guilty in a certain sense, but it’ll be good for him to branch out and meet new people, so you tuck the feeling away as best as you can before packing your nightly essentials and getting ready to leave.

“i’ll be back tomorrow morning,” you tell him, and he only nods with his lips pursed, which makes your heart feel sour.

“try not to miss me too much,” you tease, but it doesn’t seem to cheer him up in the slightest. 

“have fun,” he replies weakly, and your previously sour heart now kind of aches, but you have to do this for him. you can't always be beside him for everything, right? besides, it's only for the night.

you open the door to leave, but before you go, you turn back to him and he senses hesitation in you. before he can question it, you’re opening your arms, and his eyes widen when he realizes you’re inviting him in for a hug. you almost regret doing it as soon as you open them for fear of making him uncomfortable, but he embraces you before you have time to process such feelings. on beomgyu’s end, he has always been wary of touch for obvious reasons, but he gravitates towards your open arms like he was meant to be in them.

he rests his chin on the top of your head for a moment and you spend an unknown length of time just standing with your arms wrapped around each other. 

“i’ll miss you,” you admit, and before you can smack yourself for being so dramatic and sentimental over what will ultimately only be one night, you can swear you feel his grip tightening even more around you.

eventually, you break away and look up at him with a smile. you ruffle his hair and promise to see him later, and he answers you with a nod. then, you're leaving and locking the door behind you.

immediately, beomgyu feels a sense of loss he’s never felt before. after all, to experience loss, you must have something worth losing in the first place, and he has never had anything like that. at least, not until you. so he stands at the door for who knows how long, just like a puppy waiting for his owner to get home. 

-

soobin can sense you’re out of it before you even finish crossing through his doorway, and it puts a halt to your typically overdramatic greeting. 

“what’s the matter? are you feeling okay?” he questions concernedly as he pulls you in for a hug. you nod before you break apart from him and walk through the threshold. 

“y-yeah. it’s just, i don’t know, i guess i just feel bad about leaving beomgyu all by himself,” you tell him as you plop down on his couch. 

“the android you’ve been renting?” he asks incredulously. “i’ve been meaning to ask you about that, actually. why’re you renting it so much? i barely even see you anymore. is the sex that good?” 

“you know i don’t use androids like that,” you snap in annoyance, partially because he’s calling beomgyu “it”.

“i know, which is why i’m so confused. why rent it in the first place if you’re not getting anything out of it?” 

you struggle to answer his question. you promised beomgyu you’d keep his secret, but you trust soobin, and you know he won’t judge him, or worse, report him. besides, it’ll be good to have an unbiased third party weigh in on the situation. with this in mind, you tell him about beomgyu, skipping over some of the more personal details. he’s in disbelief at first and actually thinks you’re just fucking with him, but as you tell him more and more about the time you’ve spent together, his smile falls and his face turns serious. 

“so that’s why i feel so guilty about leaving him alone,” you finish with a deep sigh. he’s silent for a few moments before collecting his thoughts.

“god, i can’t believe this is actually happening,” he whispers.

“i know. it’s insane, but it’s true. he’s just so… human. you should've seen the way he looked at me when i told him i was leaving. i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone look so sad before.” 

“well, you’re right about him needing to make friends,” he says with a nod, and it validates all of your misgivings about leaving him alone. “but don’t you think you should, i don’t know, think about what all of this means?” 

“what do you mean?” you ask, and in that moment, he knows you have no idea about the way beomgyu probably feels about you. he’s not 100% confident in his deductions, but the way you describe how beomgyu acts around you pretty much tells him everything he needs to know. 

“i mean, you basically have a completely sentient creature who relies on you for everything. if he’s as human as you say he is, then he can probably feel everything that we do. right now, i’d guess that he feels like you’re all he knows.” and the sneaking sense of guilt that was previously threatening to creep up on you is now completely overwhelming. you’re all he knows. and you left him all alone to fend for himself and make his own friends. yes, he needs to learn how to make connections, but how could you expect him to know how to do that? it took weeks for him to finally seem comfortable around you, so how could he possibly know how to make them on his own? moreover, even though it's nothing to you, you're his entire world. he must feel like you abandoned him.

“i’ve gotta go,” you mumble.

“what?” he asks. 

“i–i’ve gotta go home,” you repeat as you hurriedly stand up and hug him goodbye. 

“wait! i think you should —” 

“love you, bye!” you shout as you book it out of the doorway. 

-

when you return home, you open the door to see beomgyu listlessly staring at the television screen. when he hears you, he turns to look at you with watery eyes. he looks so lost in this moment, and all of your suspicions are confirmed.

“beoms, i am so sorry,” you tell him as you rush over and throw your arms around him. 

“for what?” he asks with a gulp as he stays in your embrace, shakily wrapping his arms around your waist.

“i’m sorry for leaving you all by yourself. i thought it was just for one night, so it’d be alright, but you don’t have anyone but me right now; and i realize that it’s unfair for me to expect you to meet other people all on your own when you’ve never had to do it before. if you want friends, i’ll help you, okay? i’ll be there with you as you do it,” you tell him, and you feel his body trembling. 

“i-i’m sorry. i know it’s not a big deal, but when you’re not with me, i feel so scared. i… i don’t know how to do anything by myself. i’m s-sorry i need you so much,” he whispers, and your heart breaks. 

“don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “how about this: i’ll join you online and we can talk to people together. then, when you’re ready, you can start hanging out with my friends in person, too, okay? we can keep going until you don’t need me anymore.” beomgyu outwardly agrees, which seems to put you at ease, but there’s just one issue: he’ll always need you.

-

gaming online is actually really fun, but making friends is hard for someone like beomgyu. he’s quiet and a little awkward at first, but after a few nights and with your help, he finally warms up to the people he games with. he gets so comfortable, in fact, that he’s even able to shit talk with them a little. 

“fuckkk, that’s so unfair!” his new friend, kai, wails over the headset. 

“it’s not unfair, you just suck,” beomgyu chuckles, and kai whines again. you laugh at their interaction before kai continues.

“how are you so fucking good at this game? you’ve only been playing for a few nights, and you’re already better than me!” he pouts. 

“i’m just gifted,” beomgyu boasts.

“very true,” you add, and he beams, but kai’s next words throw him off-kilter.

“whatever. stop asking your girlfriend to argue with me — you two make me sick,” he jokes with his signature maniacal laugh, but the two of you are too stunned to laugh along. you look at each other in sheer embarrassment, and you can see beomgyu’s ears turning bright pink beneath his blond hair. you’re not sure why you feel so mortified, but you do. this is beomgyu, for god’s sake. there’s no earthly way you could ever see him in anything other than a purely platonic way, so why does your heart feel uneasy at the notion? while you’re still too stunned to speak, beomgyu tries to pipe up and respond.

“sh-she’s — we’re not, uh —” 

“damn it!” kai yells as his character dies yet again, and any momentum beomgyu previously had to clear up the misunderstanding is killed stone dead in its tracks. 

he turns to look at you unsurely, but the awkward moment seems to have passed for you as you laugh at kai’s character’s death. if only he could be as unfazed.

after kai goes offline, you two decide to quit gaming for the night. you turn to beomgyu nervously, and he immediately knows that you’re going to say something serious. he hopes beyond hope that it’s not about what kai said.

“can i ask you something?” and his heart sinks. oh god, you probably caught onto his feelings. he’s not sure he has the confidence to tell the truth, but how could he lie to you?

“y-yes,” he replies, voice a bit unsteady.

“okay, you can say no if you want, but soobin invited us to a get together he’s having pretty soon. it’s not anything too crazy, so there’ll only be a few of us. i think it’ll be a good start for you. maybe you’ll even make some new friends, you know?” he’s silent at your words just out of sheer shock. he’d definitely missed the mark when guessing your intentions. 

“it’s okay to say no,” you hurriedly add, “but my friends are really nice, and i’d be with you the entire time. even if you don’t talk to anybody, you can talk to me.”

“okay,” he agrees before he can even really think about it. he guesses he’s just relieved that you still don’t know about his feelings, but part of him aches even still. 

“really?” you ask incredulously. “oh my god! i have to tell soobin — he’ll be so excited!” you babble, and his lips curl upwards at how happy you are. he wishes he could always make you happy like this, and it seems that he’d agree to absolutely anything if you were the one asking.

-

work has been especially taxing today, which is nothing new, but you have this insatiable suspicion that something feels… off as you finish up for the day. as you’re about to head out for the night, you wonder what beomgyu will want to do once you get home. maybe he’ll want to play games with kai, or maybe he’ll want to watch a movie with you. maybe he’ll let you cuddle up to him for warmth, which he’s been very willing to do, lately. the unspoken rule that you two will never touch has become blurry for some reason, but you’re pretty touchy with all of your friends, so it only feels like a matter of course to you. 

you’re thinking about all of the potential ways tonight could play out when it hits you: you didn’t reserve beomgyu. you spit out a curse and hurriedly take out your phone to book him, but it’s too late. he’s already assigned to someone for the night. fuck.

when you get home, you’re anxious beyond belief. you haven’t spent a night without beomgyu in months, but more importantly, he hasn’t spent a night without you. you try not to think about how scared he will be when he’s powered on in a stranger’s home. you hope he’s able to just switch back to his initial programming, but somehow, you just know it won’t be that easy. you feel sick with worry when you think about how someone so human will have to involuntarily turn his feelings off and pretend to enjoy something he’s being forced to do — with no compensation, no less. he must think you abandoned him. he must think you don’t care about him. how could you forget to reserve him when he needs you so much? fuck how busy you were with work, his wellbeing should have been your first priority.

so you sit and watch the hours tick by. you try to relax. you try to tell yourself it’s only for one night, and he’s been doing it for years, but something just feels wrong, wrong, wrong. you’re about to try to force yourself to go to sleep so the night ends more quickly when you hear a rapid knocking on your door. it’s strange for someone to call on you so late, indeed, but when you look through your peephole, you see none other than the very boy you’ve been worrying about. 

“beomgyu?” you say incredulously when you swing open the door. immediately, he embraces you, and you feel hot tears streaming down your neck as he nuzzles his face into it. you hold him as best as you can as you rub circles into his back and try to shush his cries.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” you tell him, and he whines. you try to break away to get a good look at him, but he just pulls you in even closer, as if you’re his only lifeline in this world, and in a way, you are.

after his breathing slows and his sobs die out, he reluctantly parts from you, so you hold his hand and lead him to your couch. his eyes are swollen and bloodshot while his nose is a bright pink, but he never once takes his eyes off of you for fear of letting you out of his sight. in his mind, you can’t leave as long as he can see you.

“are you alright?” you tentatively ask, hand still holding his and soothingly caressing it in an attempt to calm him down. he goes to nod before stopping himself and shaking his head in the negative. your eyes soften even more at the action.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you try, and he nods before clearing his throat.

“i, um, i woke up and i was at this woman’s house. she… she wanted me to get undressed, but i didn’t want to, so she started doing it for me.” you wince at his words, but he’s not finished yet. 

“she kept touching me, and it was so disgusting i just — i just couldn't stand it, so i ran away and came here. i don’t mean to make your life harder, and i won’t ask for you to stay the night with me anymore, but if you could just let me stay here, i promise i’ll learn how to clean or do anything you want. please, just don’t make me —” 

“beomgyu, stop it,” you say softly, but firmly. “you are not making my life harder. you can stay here as much as you want and do whatever you want while you’re here. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean for this to happen. i was just so busy with work, and by the time i realized it, somebody had already booked you. i promise you that it’ll never happen again, okay? so you don't have to be afraid. i’m not leaving you, and i won’t let anyone hurt you, either.” 

you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look so relieved before. it looks as though you just saved his life, and to beomgyu, you essentially did. he holds your hand even tighter, as if you’re the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of this planet. 

“wait here, i’ll get you some clothes,” you say gently, but as you go to leave, he holds you even tighter. your eyebrow quirks in a silent question at his actions, and he looks sheepish for a moment before saying his next words.

“c-can we just stay like this for a bit? just for a little while? i’m still scared,” he mumbles, and your heart melts.

“of course. come here,” you beckon, and he falls into your arms and rests his head on your shoulder, breathing your scent in as he tries to imprint this moment into his hardware. you stay like that for a while before you finally convince him to change out of his uncomfortable clothes. he reluctantly lets you go, and his eyes follow you everywhere you walk. 

that night, you stay up later than usual to spend more time with him. he stays glued to your side and ensures that he’s always touching you in some way, which is endearing in a way you can’t seem to put into words. when you’re about to head to bed for the night, you swear you hear him whimper, but he lets you go, anyway. as you lay your head down and get comfortable under the covers, you hear a timid knocking on your door. you call him in, and his gaze shyly flickers between you and the floor. 

“c-can i stay with you tonight? i won’t bother you, i swear. it’s just — i just still feel weird. y-you can say no! i just thought that —”

“come here,” you softly interrupt, and he doesn’t hesitate to listen. he closes the door behind him and shuffles towards you, stopping uncertainly at the edge of the bed in a silent plea for permission to enter it. you feel a weird, warm feeling in your chest when he does it. you scoot over and pat the open space next to you before he gathers enough courage to slide in. you cover him with your blanket, and he stiffly accepts it. you giggle at his awkwardness and cuddle up to him, placing your arms around his waist before thinking better of it. how could you just invade his personal space when he’s clearly traumatized? you go to remove your arms and scoot away before he firmly locks you in place.

“it’s okay,” he whispers, settling himself into your embrace and mindlessly toying with the ends of your hair.

“are you sure?” you ask.

“i’m sure.”

it isn't long before beomgyu hears your breathing slow down, and eventually he hears you begin to snore. he smiles at the sound. he can't really sleep, but he's perfectly content with watching you rest. he continues to play with your hair, and you nuzzle into his touch every so often. he doesn’t want to repeat the events leading up to tonight, but he would do it all over again — any number of times — with a smile on his face if it meant he got to be with you like this again. 

-

the next morning, beomgyu waits for the usual delivery guy from the company to pick him up, but it’s currently way past the usual pickup time. he’s most certainly not complaining, but you don’t seem even remotely fazed by the matter. however, while you’re casually flipping through your streaming catalog literal hours after he’d already be gone, he can’t stop himself from asking:

“um, d-do you know when i’m being picked up?” you pause, and he worries that he may have said the wrong thing before you turn to him.

“do you want to be picked up?” you ask solemnly.

“n-no! of course not. it’s just, you know, i’d usually be gone by now, so i —” 

“do you want to stay here? with me, i mean,” you interrupt.

“i… i do,” he replies with a gulp. usually, that’d be all you get from him, but it feels like the perfect opportunity to be honest about his feelings. “i always want to stay with you, but i know i’m expensive, and i don’t want to be a bother.” he looks ashamed as he admits it, but if he had the courage to look in your eyes, he’d note the fondness that lies within them.

“i told you that you’re not a bother to me. i also told you that you could stay here for as long as you want, remember?” and he does, so he nods. 

“alright. i meant it when i said it last night, and i mean it now. if you want to be here, you can stay for as long as you’d like. you don't have to worry about your owners anymore, i promise.” and he thinks he’s never seen you as serious as you are now. he wonders what you mean before it dawns on him.

“you… did you buy me?” he asks in disbelief.

“y-yeah. i’m sorry, it sounds so gross when i hear it out loud, but that doesn’t mean that i own you or anything. what i really wanted to buy was your freedom, so you can stay as long as you want, but that also means that you can leave whenever you want, too.”

“i’m so sorry,” he says in a hushed, hurried tone. “i know i'm expensive. i’m really sorry.”

“money is not an object to me,” you dismiss in faux arrogance with a wave of your hand in hopes that it’ll lighten the mood, but beomgyu can’t stop the tears from falling over his waterlines, and you’re afraid your attempt to help him only made him feel more indebted to you. all worry is promptly washed away when you feel him pull you into his arms. 

“thank you,” he just barely breathes out. “i don’t know how i’ll ever pay you back, but i’ll try, i swear.”

“you don’t have to do anything for me, beoms. i should’ve done it a lot sooner, but i’m just a little slow, i guess,” you muse, and he chuckles softly into your neck.

-

sleeping with beomgyu should’ve only happened once, but every night when you say you’re heading to bed, he looks at you with puppy eyes and you find yourself inviting him to come along. each time, he looks so excited that if he had a tail, it would most certainly be wagging. he obediently follows you to your room and settles into the empty space next to you before holding you in his arms as you drift off. he’s even taken to humming the tunes of songs he likes when you struggle to settle down, and his baritone voice lulls you to sleep like a charm every time. he spends his time by just looking at you and trying to reconcile with his new reality. this is real. he gets to spend however many nights he wants next to you, as per your own words. even if you didn’t mean them, he plans to take them seriously. he is perfectly content with spending the rest of his life just sleeping with you, looking at you, being with you. 

-

soobin’s get together is tonight, and you look different than usual. your typical look is very casual, which makes sense because you’re only ever at home when you’re with him, but you are now primped and ready to be seen, and it makes him anxious because you look even more lovable. he knows these people are your friends, so they must’ve seen you dressed up before, but that only makes him all the more uneasy; they know a side of you he is only now seeing, and it makes that same old ugly feeling he's grown so accustomed to sprout in his chest. 

when you arrive at soobin’s place, the first thing you do when soobin swings open the door is jump in his arms like you didn’t just see him a week ago. he spins you around with a dimpled grin that’s so sincere, beomgyu feels emotionally decimated by it. you both giggle as you break apart, and the jealousy beomgyu feels brewing within feels unpacifiable. 

“is this beomgyu?” soobin asks, grin still very much apparent.

“yes! you’re gonna love him,” you answer giddily. 

“it’s nice to meet you,” soobin says warmly while stretching out his hand, which beomgyu awkwardly shakes while he tries to force his lips to curl upwards in what he prays is a believable smile.

“nice to meet you,” he mumbles.

“everyone’s already here, but you’re late as always,” soobin playfully chastises, and you pout in response.

everyone greets you when you walk in, mostly by hugging you and lightheartedly scolding you for not coming out anymore. they’re very clearly bantering with you, but each reproach feels like a knife to beomgyu’s heart. he’s the reason you haven’t seen them in so long. 

clueless to it all, you introduce him as your friend to everyone, which only makes him feel worse, somehow. he is just one friend out of many, meanwhile you’re his entire world. you’re far too caught up in the joy of seeing some of your favorite people after so long to notice his dismay, however.

you lead him to soobin’s couch to have a seat with you and one of your friends, taehyun maybe, offers him a drink, to which he awkwardly declines. you quickly follow up with something to the effect of “he isn’t much of a drinker,” and beomgyu nods in affirmation. you try your best to include beomgyu in conversation, but they’re all talking about people and places he doesn't know. all he knows is you, and the world you two built together seems smaller and smaller with every new topic of conversation. 

he notices that soobin seems to be eyeing him somewhat strangely, though he tries his best to play it off. he could just attribute it to surface level curiosity, but his intuition tells him it’s much deeper than that. is soobin sizing up his competition? maybe so, but there’s not much to see. beomgyu is handsome, and he knows it, but soobin knows a side of you beomgyu has only ever heard stories about. you’ve told him about your friends and the goings on between you and your coworkers, but it pales in comparison to actually meeting them. he makes an internal note to ask even more questions than he usually does the next time you’re telling him about your day. until then, he sits as close to you as humanly possible and clings onto your arm, which is so second nature to you, you don't even notice that he’s doing it. 

soobin, who is usually not the inquisitive type, can’t help but question the dynamic between you and beomgyu. at first, the lingering glances and intimate gestures were innocuous enough to be written off as mere friendliness, but when you whisper something in beomgyu’s ear and he flushes a bright pink, soobin knows he can’t ignore it any longer. he especially can’t ignore it when you turn away from beomgyu and he raises a hand to the ear you just whispered into as if he’s reliving the moment. well, time to test his theory. 

soobin slides into the open cushion next to you and begins excitedly chattering about how pretty you look tonight, and he even takes your braided hair into his hands and twirls it between his fingers.

“your hair looks pretty,” he muses.

“beomgyu did it, actually,” you grin, and soobin glances over to said boy, who is currently glaring daggers at him. the look in beomgyu’s eyes is so intense, he almost wants to back off, but he has to get to the bottom of this. 

“did he? you know, it’s been a while since you stayed over. wanna have a sleepover tonight? you have some clothes here from last time, and we can cuddle, i know you like that,” he says as innocently as he possibly can. 

before you can even reply, beomgyu is slamming his hands on the coffee table. you turn to face him in surprise, and the look on his face is the angriest you’ve ever seen him. his eyes are dark and his nostrils are flared as he heavily breathes. he’s never been angry at all in front of you, actually, so to say you’re taken aback is the understatement of the century. 

“beoms? what’s wrong?” you ask concernedly, completely turning away from soobin. your voice is enough to somewhat placate him, but before he can fully calm down, soobin is saying his next words.

“i’m sure he’s fine. beomgyu, you can find your way home tonight on your own, can’t you?” beomgyu is positively seething at this. before you can question him again, he’s gripping your hand so tightly it’s like it’s the only thing keeping him from drowning, so you excuse the both of you and drag him to the bathroom for some privacy.

“are you alright?” you ask, frantically scanning his figure for some sort of sign of pain or discomfort. 

“i-i’m fine, i just, uh, i don’t feel good,” he says flatly. 

“what’s wrong? is it too much? do we need to go home?” he’s so flustered, he barely registers that you’re calling your house “home”, but he still notices it in spite of everything, and it’s like a balm on his aching heart. 

“y-yeah, can we go home? please?” he pleads, and you hurriedly nod. 

“of course, just let me say bye to everyone before we leave, okay?” and he wants to say no, but he’s as weak as ever in front of you, so he relents.

that doesn’t stop him from gripping your hand, though, as you say goodbye to everyone. you go to give soobin your usual hug, but beomgyu pulls you back to him even more tightly. you write it off as him not feeling well and just wanting to leave as soon as possible, to which you oblige, and before you know it, you two are scurrying out of soobin’s place like there’s something chasing you.

as you’re driving home, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, but it isn’t until you’re walking through your doorway that you check it. 

soobie: we need to talk. call me as soon as you get home

you’re worried beyond belief at his serious tone, so you tell beomgyu that you’ve got to make a call before ducking into your bedroom. you don’t shut the door behind you, because why would you? 

you quickly call soobin and the line connects after just one ring.

“what’s wrong?” you ask anxiously, and soobin just sighs, which makes you all the more anxious.

“we have to talk about beomgyu.” 

“beomgyu? what about him? is something wrong?” you question.

“yeah, i mean, maybe. this might sound crazy, but i think — i know — he likes you.” you’re stunned silly for just a moment before bursting into laughter.

“likes me? what the hell are you talking about?” you dismiss, and you sense his agitation even through the phone.

“i’m serious. i had a feeling before, but tonight just confirmed it. he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment, just trying to process his words, but once your mind somewhat clears, you can’t help but deny, deny, deny.

“you’re wrong. it’s not like that at all. i’m just the first person who’s ever treated him nicely, and i —” 

“you’re not listening,” he cuts in irritatedly. “he looked like he wanted to skin me alive tonight. how else do you explain that?” 

“soobie,” you sigh. “you’ve got it all wrong. maybe you’re right and maybe he was feeling insecure, but that’s probably because i’m the only person he knows. he most likely just felt like you were stealing my attention away.” 

“you’re always so dense about these things, you know?” he groans. “okay, look, i’m not sure how they came about, but i do know that he has feelings for you. maybe it started out as dependence, i’m not sure, but it’s definitely much more than that now.” 

“that’s impossible,” you snort, actually feeling a bit impatient now. how could he possibly think that your relationship with beomgyu was anything other than platonic? 

“why? because he’s a robot?” oh, that shuts you up. “just think about it. if he were a human, would you still be saying the same thing? like i said before, if he’s as human as you say he is, he can feel the same way we do, and he’s definitely capable of feeling love, too.” you are, again, stunned into silence. suddenly, as if there was a fog that covered your brain before, things that you never really considered become clear to you. the soft touches, the gentleness. sleeping in the same bed and waiting for you to get home. wanting you — needing you — around all the time. the way he plays with your hair. the way he’s so interested in everything you have to say. the clinginess, the dependence. it all makes so much more sense to you. 

“i —” you begin, but you just so happen to glance up and see beomgyu right outside of your doorway… looking absolutely devastated. 

“i’ve gotta go,” you tell soobin as you hang up, not even bothering to say your usual goodbye. 

“beoms, did you hear us?” you ask tentatively, and he flinches a little bit before looking down at the floor and nodding.

you’re unsure of how to navigate this situation from here, but while you’re still trying to figure it out, beomgyu speaks.

“i-i’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly. “i understand if you don’t want me anymore.” 

“w-what? no, i —” 

“i’m just really sorry,” he says, looking as ashamed as a person ever could. “i know it’s wrong, i know it’s disgusting, but i —” 

“beomgyu.” 

“but i can’t help it. i wish i could, but i just can’t; and i understand if you want to return me or whatever, but if you could just —” 

“beomgyu, stop it,”  you interrupt firmly, no room for argument. he stares at you with defeated eyes, and you feel your heart break in two. “i am not disgusted, and i don’t want to return you.” his eyebrows furrow as if he doesn't quite understand, so you continue. 

“your feelings are not disgusting to me, don’t ever say that again, okay? please? it makes me sad,” you plead, and he hesitantly nods. “i think it’s normal, actually. you don’t really know anybody else other than me, so of course you’re confused.” 

“confused?” he asks incredulously, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“confused,” you nod. “it'll change once you meet more people, i swear.” you try to smile reassuringly, but suddenly, you see tears welling up in beomgyu’s eyes. 

“beoms?” you carefully try.

“i don't need to meet more people. i just need you,” he chokes out. “don't tell me i'm confused because i'm not. i-i'd rather you just say you don't want to be with me than tell me that.” your heart clenches at his words, but he continues. 

“i just want to be with you, no one else,” he tells you desperately. “i can understand if you don't feel the same way, but i can't stand to hear you say i don’t love you, because i do. i really, really do.” and as if you're dissociating, your mind is bombarded by times where he's shown you this exact sentiment. again, you go back to every intimate moment you two have ever shared. it was easy to just chalk it up to his lack of experience, but when he's telling you that's not the case so earnestly, is it truly possible to still believe it’s nothing? after a while, you decide that it most certainly is not. 

the question is: do you feel the same way? you try to put a name to the feelings you have when you’re with him. the trust you have, the understanding. the desire to share everything you know and like with him, no matter how mundane it may seem to others; and consequently, the endearment towards him when you see how eager he is to listen. more than that, the intimacy between you two. how you like waking up to him smiling down at you, and how when something happens, he’s the first one you want to tell, good or bad. how when you listen to new music, you feel excited at the prospect of sharing it with him. 

you realize you want to know more about him, the happy things and even the sad things. why he is the way that he is, why he thinks the way he thinks. the peace you feel when he’s running his fingers through your hair and holding you close when you watch the same film for the dozenth time. you try to picture a world where somebody else rented him. a world in which somebody else got to see him as soon as they wake up or as soon as they get home from a particularly grueling day at work, and you finally understand that you wouldn’t like that at all. but why? you’ve only ever thought of him as a friend, right? so why does it matter to you? 

your eyes focus on beomgyu again, and you notice how utterly defeated he looks. his heart is on full display for you — and you alone — as tears stream freely down his pretty, doll-like face. are these tears just for you? you think so. is it safe to trust that these feelings he has for you are real? you’re not sure, but you want to. still, there’s something stopping you.

“i think… i think i feel the same way,” you admit, and his previously downtrodden appearance immediately lights up with hope. “but we shouldn’t.” and the words are like lead in your mouth. 

“why not?” he asks, clearly distressed. you just gave him an inch, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take a mile. he never in a million years would have thought that you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so he can’t just let them go so easily.

“i just… it’s just not something that i can —” 

“is it because i’m an android?” he questions, voice teeming with self-loathing. 

“n-no! i mean, we’re just so different,” you tell him, trying to skirt around the topic as best as you possibly can, but he won’t have it.

“whatever it is, i’ll change it. please? i can do anything,” he pleads. 

“it’s not like that. i want to, but we can't. i-i'll get older. i won't look the same — i won't be the same,” and it’s embarrassing as hell to admit it out loud, but you mean it. beomgyu’s urgent gaze softens, and he inches closer to you before he’s standing before you. he reaches out to gently cup your face and tenderly pushes your hair behind your ears.

“and what about me?” 

“what about you?” you scoff, but you don't pull away from his touch, though your eyes do dart away. “you’ll still be you, and i’ll be old and —” 

“what about when my parts start creaking? what about when i don’t remember things like i’m supposed to? you’ll still love me then, right?” he asks, but he already knows, and your eyes snap back to his.

“th-that’s different. you can get repairs. i can’t —” 

“then i won’t. you’ll get old and gray and i’ll get rundown and out-of-date. i don’t care what happens, as long as i’m with you.” you’re silent in the wake of his heavy words, so he quickly continues.

“you told me that when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you said you always find a way, and i want to find a way to be with you.” your heart simultaneously warms and aches at this sentiment. 

you consider what it would be like to be with him. things would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. maybe you’ll come to regret it someday, but you don’t want to think about that right now. you feel like the luckiest girl in the world when you think of the fact that somebody so beautiful, inside and out, wants to be with you. you don't think you’ve done anything particularly special for him, but he still wants and accepts you for everything that you are and ever will be.

“okay,” you say shakily, and you finally recognize that his hands are still very much cupping your face, fingers lovingly rubbing against your cheeks. he smiles in pure relief at your answer, but he makes no move to break away his hold on you. 

you notice how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips, and you decide you'll have mercy on him as you lean up to him and press a chaste kiss on his pouty lips before parting. he’s visibly red at the action, and you grin at how flustered he looks. on beomgyu’s end, he feels another bloom of excitement and swell of hope threatening to overcome him. when he looks at the playfulness in your eyes, he smiles even wider. 

“i love you,” he whispers affectionately.

you pause before you tell him:

“i love you, too, beoms.”

-

that night, beomgyu is even clingier than usual. he sticks like gum to your side. when you head to sleep, he eagerly nestles in your bed and holds his arms wide open. you follow his lead and settle into his warm embrace. he sings you one of his favorite songs you’ve ever shown him. the last words you hear before you sink into sleep are:

“to die by your side

is such a heavenly way to die

to die by your side, well

the pleasure, the privilege is mine”

notes pt. 2: sfw work ends here!

you and beomgyu have been “together” for a few weeks now, so the relationship is still very new. surprisingly or not, things seem more or less the same. you guess you never realized just how intimate you two have always been until you put a label on things. the only tangible differences are that instead of just a mere hug when he greets you, he plants kisses all over your face before finding his ways to your lips. and when you’re watching movies or even just talking, he’ll steal a kiss or two. and when you head to bed, you know you can expect him to catch your lips like a man starved before you sleep. things get heated, sometimes, but they never lead to anything besides labored breaths and promises to calm himself down. you take his hesitancy as him wanting to take it slow and treasure your first time together, and you realize he still may be traumatized from the years he spent as a sexbot. 

you have apologized to him for telling soobin his secret. you let him know your reasoning for telling him, and he accepted your apology quite graciously. honestly? he was never mad, and he tells you that very clearly, but you still feel somewhat guilty even when he says he understands. your guilt is only absolved when he says he’s thankful you told soobin because things may have never changed without his wise input. he says that he’s grateful to soobin for being a voice of reason in the face of your emotional density. you blushed when he told you this, and apologized for being so slow on the uptake, but he just assured you that he wouldn’t have you any other way, which made you love him even more, somehow. 

you’re now about to go to soobin’s again for another get together with your friends. second time’s the charm, you cheekily told him when you brought it up, and he blushed in response. when you two walk through the doorway, everyone cheers. you greet everyone as usual, and beomgyu tries his best to keep his searing jealousy at bay, but his anxiety starts clawing at him as soobin seats himself next to you and asks you how you are. 

you giggle and tell him you’re doing well, and he responds by updating you on his tumultuous work life. beomgyu immediately wonders why you haven’t told soobin about your new relationship. are you embarrassed to be seen with him? it’s not like he doesn’t understand, what with him technically being made out of wires and machinery. of course a human like you wouldn’t want to be seen with a metal man like him. you could have the entire world in your hands if you wanted, so what’s the point of playing pretend with a fake like him? maybe, if he were you, he’d be embarrassed, too. he likes to think that maybe you aren’t like that, but at the end of the day, how could you not be? he’s nothing more than a robot masquerading as the real thing. 

his anxiety worsens the more in depth your conversation with soobin gets. you try to include him by briefly giving him context about the stories soobin tells, but he can’t stop himself from worrying. again, he feels like soobin is stealing you away from him, and his mood sours. 

your other friends try to talk to him, too, but he’s very obviously in a bad mood as he watches you two continue to laugh together. when you finally do turn to beomgyu, you immediately notice how awful he looks. 

“beoms? are you alright?” you ask gingerly, but beomgyu’s discomfort is not at all placated even at the term of endearment. 

“‘m fine,” he mumbles, and you’re genuinely in shock at his change of attitude. soobin looks very concerned, but he excuses himself to get a drink so you two can work it out, though he has an inkling of an idea of what’s triggering beomgyu. 

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask concernedly, but he shakes his head sulkily.

“do you wanna go home?” you offer, and he immediately nods. you look torn for a second, but when you see how sad he looks, you know you can’t deny him.

you say your goodbyes to your friends and apologize for leaving early, but everyone says they understand. soobin makes you promise to host the next get together, though, to which you happily agree. 

the ride home is mostly silent, but you look over to beomgyu in concern every so often. you grab his hand and squeeze it in a way you hope is comforting, but he doesn’t look any better at all.

when you enter your house, you immediately head to your bedroom, and he follows you in silence. you sit on the bed and pat the space next to you. 

“beoms, what’s the matter?” you ask pleadingly as you grab his hands, and his heart, which was previously aching, is (a little) soothed by your concern. 

“i-it’s nothing,” he answers, but you can tell that he’s lying because of the way he refuses to make eye contact with you. 

“baby, i can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong,” you say. you’re right, and he knows you’re right, but you’re already doing him the favor of a lifetime just by deigning to be with him. how could he dare to ask for more? he’s ashamed at the thought, but you look so sincere, and he knows in his metaphorical heart that he needs to be able to communicate with you if you two are going to have any shot at a lasting relationship.

“i-i’m just j-jealous,” he sputters. 

“oh, baby, why?” you ask. 

“because i’m not like you,” he admits after a pause. “i already feel like i’m not good enough for you, so seeing you with someone who actually is makes me feel awful.”

“who? soobin?” and you’re absolutely petrified when he sheepishly nods. 

“honey, it’s not like that at all,” you tell him. “we’re just friends, i promise.” 

“but it would be so much easier to be with him. you wouldn’t have to be ashamed about telling everyone you’re with an android,” he argues. 

“beomgyu, i am not ashamed of you. i just wasn’t sure if you felt comfortable with me telling everyone. if you want me to tell them, i’ll happily do it. you’re so good, how could i ever be embarrassed of you?” his eyes soften.

“do you mean it?” he asks, and you nod. 

“do i not show it enough? how much i love you, i mean.” he furiously shakes his head no, but you know it’s a lie. beomgyu himself will admit that he needs more validation than most people, and it’s going to take him a while to ever get over it because of his own issues. that doesn’t mean you can’t try to help him, though, so you brush his cheek with your hands before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“does this make you feel better?” you ask after you pull away, but he still looks somewhat depressed, so you pull him in again before pressing your lips against his. this time, you swipe your tongue on his pout, which makes him gasp. you tease your tongue against his and electricity thrums between you two when you do it. he reciprocates your enthusiasm immediately, and before long, you’re both sucking and teasing each other until you’re out of breath.

you pull away again and rest your forehead against his. 

“better?” you question.

“a little,” he says. “m-maybe a little more?” you grin at his coquettishness, and you go in for another kiss. your tongues tangle, but you don’t stop there. your mouth travels, peppering kisses down his jaw to his sensitive neck. he shivers at the contact when you swipe your tongue over his unmarred skin before lightly sucking. he lets out a broken moan when you do it, and it reverberates throughout your entire body and straight to your core. 

“better?” you ask again.

“m-more,” he pants. 

“anything you want, baby,” you tease before your lips hungrily capture his. one of your hands snakes its way up his shirt, and he gasps when you roll his hardened nipple between your fingers. beomgyu is more sensitive than most people, as is the nature of his model, so every little touch drives him crazy. 

you seem to have noticed this, so when your other hand palms his hardened length through his sweatpants and he almost screams, you have to bite back a giggle. 

“d-don’t tease,” he begs, and you’d do anything for beomgyu, really, but not this time.

you palm him even more harshly and his breath catches in his throat. 

“more?” you ask, and he fervently nods. you oblige, sliding your hand under his waistband and teasing the sensitive skin around his length. your fingers brush against it every so often, and he involuntarily bucks every time you do. 

“c-can i touch you?” he practically implores.

“of course, my love,” you tell him as you remove your devious hands and pull your top off before unclipping your bra. 

his mouth waters when he sees you, and you can see him gulp almost comically as his big hands meet your breasts. he copies your movement from earlier, rolling your sensitive buds between his very clearly experienced fingers. you let out a contented sigh at the action, but you won’t let this be all about you, so your hand sneaks it way back down his pants. this time, you grab his girthy cock and give it a harsh tug. his actions stutter, and you smirk devilishly at how fucked out he is when the fun part hasn’t even begun. 

you pull at his waistband, and he eagerly tugs his pants and boxers off as soon you do it. he even goes as far as to tear his t-shirt off over his head before he pulls your half-naked body flush against his, falling onto the bed as he desperately kisses you for everything that you’re worth. eventually, he situates himself on top of you, rutting his thick, long cock onto your still clothed thigh. you didn’t really get a chance to get a good look at him before, but you’re able to look down at him now, and you realize his dick is gorgeous. just like every other part of him. it stands tall, blushing profusely at the tip and practically weeping precum. it’s a bit hooked, too, no doubt to elicit the most pleasure out of his clients. your pussy is drenched just thinking about how it’ll feel when it’s inside of you.

he almost rips your bottoms off of you and his mouth waters even more at the sight of your pussy, all slick and glistening in anticipation for what’s to come. 

“so gorgeous,” he whispers as he prepares to lay himself between your legs, but you hook them around his waist before he can do so. tonight will be all about him, you’ve decided, so you tug him closer and put one of his pretty nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue on it and occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. your other hand continues to tweak the other one before you alternate between the two, causing him to let out a low, guttural groan. 

eventually, he goes in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth and saliva, and you take one of your hands and harshly clench around the base of his throbbing cock. 

“is this what you needed, beoms?” you tease, and he nods pathetically as you tug again, harder this time, and let your hands stroke all the way up to his reddened tip. your thumb glides over his slit, and he’s seeing stars. 

“i don’t know why you’re so jealous of someone else, my love. you’re so perfect,” you praise, and his ears get even redder, somehow, in spite of the situation you’re both in.

“i — nghh — i don’t like when you’re with him,” he pants, in spite of everything you're doing to him. “only want you with me.”

“oh, baby, you have me,” you coo. “always.” and with that, you begin to feverishly jerk him off with one hand while the other returns to his nipple. his hips buck with every movement, and his eyes are screwed shut. you can tell he’s about to come before you completely take your hands off of him. 

“n-no! w-why?” he asks with a crack in his voice, watery eyes shooting open at the sudden action.

“don’t you wanna come in my pussy, instead? it’s warmer and wetter than my hand,” you ask with faux innocence with a tilt of your head, and his previously aggrieved demeanor morphs back into pure lust. 

“that’s what i thought,” you giggle as you grab his length and rub it against your slickness. he groans at the feeling, but you don’t immediately take him in, opting to instead roll your hips up, just barely letting his flared head catch against your entrance. 

“baby, please,” he whines, and with a smirk, you finally wrap your legs around his waist and line him up with your entrance. you just barely take the tip in, easing it into your pussy, before you force him out again. he gasps raggedly at how tight you are, and he’s wound up so much, he feels like he’s on the brink of exploding. he’s about to take matters into his own hands before you guide him back inside of you, and he feels your walls struggling to accommodate him. 

“s-so tight! h-how are you so tight?” he hisses, eyes reddened and face strained, but you’re far too busy with the euphoric feeling of him finally inside of you to reply. he eases in inch after throbbing inch, and it is a snug fit, indeed. he almost wonders if he’ll even fit, but though the stretch burns you, the pleasure is too great to ignore. finally, your walls slightly relax, and he’s able to completely sheath himself in you. you both moan as his tip pulsates against your cervix, and he considerately gives you time to adjust, walls contracting wildly around him, before he attempts to pull out and really begin. 

“stop,” you command before he can do so, and his eyes fill with worry at your words. 

“w-what’s wrong?” he stutters. 

“oh, nothing,” you say between pants. “i just want to see how long you can last.” 

“w-what do you —”

and you interrupt him with a kiss. he ravenously reciprocates it, and he can’t help but unconsciously thrust his hips, tapping deliciously on the deepest parts of you, but you prevent him from ever fully pulling out. you tangle one of your hands through his hair and grip it — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him groan into your mouth. 

“c-can i move?” he pleads, but you shake your head no. 

“why?” he whimpers, but you just smirk as you kiss him again and bite his bottom lip. 

he doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, but it’s far too long for his liking. he feels his dick swell, and you still refuse to let him move, but you teasingly scrape your fingers against his balls and it’s all he can do not to come. 

“p-please let me move, it hurts,” he cries, tears now flowing from his eyes. for once, sex is all about beomgyu and what feels good to him. he could cry just from the sentiment alone, but his current tears are the direct result of how you’re teasing him.

“and where does it hurt, baby? use your words, i know you can.” 

“h-hurts, my c-cock hurts,” he sputters out. 

“and would pounding my pussy make you feel better?” you goad, and he whines even louder at the imagery. 

“y-yes,” he sobs, and you smile as you say your next words.

“such a good boy. you can move.” and that’s all it takes, really, before he’s pulling out despite your cunt’s attempts to suck him back in, and ramming himself back inside of you again and again.

the curve of his cock hits places previously untouched, and your walls spasm around him at the sensation.

“does it feel good, beoms?” 

“s-so good,” he mumbles as drool pools off of his tongue and out of his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “so warm and t-tight.” you clench against your will at his filthy words, and it makes a strangled cry leave his throat. 

“pussy so good, baby. your pussy is the b-best,” he babbles, and your lips meet his again before your mouth travels down, sucking a blooming hickey onto his neck. he trembles at the pain that comes with the pleasure, but somehow, he still has the presence of mind to roll his skilled fingers against your clit. just a few touches, and you already feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel every spasm of yours, and it makes his dick twitch inside of you as he wildly fucks you open. 

he’s drilling into you so hard, you have to dig your fingernails into the skin of his back to keep yourself grounded. with each thrust, you feel more and more like you’re about to burst. 

“gonna come!” you whine. 

“do it, baby. c-come all over my cock,” he pleads.

“come inside? want it so bad,” you mewl.

“of course, my angel. a-anything for you,” he tells you as he tenderly brushes your hair out of your sweaty face, and he hammers himself into you at an inhuman pace as you feel the pressure in you crescendo into a searing hot orgasm. you clench even tighter around him while you come, gripping him so forcefully he can barely pull out, so his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated before he rams himself into you one last time and paints your inner walls with his cum.

you two stay like that for a while, just panting and basking in the feeling of closeness you feel. he presses a kiss on your forehead as he relaxes his arms and lays on top of you. you giggle at the intimacy and he finds himself sharing your laughter, your joy. 

“you’re so beautiful,” he says between breaths, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing. “i love you.”

“i love you, too, beoms,” you tell him, and you do love him. unconditionally.

notes pt. 3: :,) :,) :,)))))) i'm very sorry if this was disappointing but i hope it was worth it! i would love to hear your thoughts or answer any questions you may have about this fic/universe. feedback is needed to a disgusting degree bc i need validation to survive #sorry

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